#(why is Jenny only being a lap cat when I need to get up and Do THings???? she's so cute and soft it's unfair)

[ktheist]

nice guys finish last | m

synopsis. you thought you were over yoongi’s dick move of ending your engagement through his parents - not even a text when he disappeared out of your life. that’s why you agreed to the newly arranged marriage with his brother, namjoon, but on the brink of your wedding day, it becomes apparent that you haven’t really let go of the past as you tear up in front of your soon-to-be husband at the back room of the church.

◟alternatively, “we entered into this marriage for a mutual reason. not dreading to come home is more than i can ask for. so it’s okay if you want to see yoongi just... keep out of the spotlight like many in our shoes who found love outside of it have.”

pairings. husband!ceo!namjoon x doctor!reader x ex-fiance!producer!yoongi

genre. arraged marriage au. angst. fluff. smut.

word. 16.2k

content: age gap factor (namjoon is 5 years older than oc and yoongi is 7 years older than oc). pining. teasing. hoseok cockblocking.

warning(s): heavy adult content. mentions of cheating. hospital scenes.

verse. knj. ksj. myg. kth. pjm. jjk. jhs. story time.

x

“i don’t want to marry you at all. the person i love is someone else.” there are tears brimming in your eyes but if there’s anything the years of etiquette class namjoon’s parents forced on him taught him - he’d say he turned out okay - it’s to not mention to the crying lady that she’s crying. but he can’t help stare a little longer. admire a little too much.

the rays flooding through the window paired with the prettiest ivory dress he’s seen you in gives you an iridescent halo. you look like an angel descended from the top most heavens.

but not for him.

“i know,” he lets out a drawn out sigh, hand on his neck. he’s always been the awkward one between the two. if it was him - if it was his brother, he would say it without any ounce of self-reproach. but then again what does namjoon have to be sorry for? for being born? for being the second choice son to step into his brother’s shoes when the aforementioned man threatened to disown the family name if their parents refused to let him marry a girl of his choice who, according to the workers’ gossip, ‘he suddenly woke up one day and decided he was in love with’? 

“it’s yoongi, isn’t it? you love yoongi.”

your eyes are prettier when you’re looking directly at him. the tears give them a kind of glow that makes him want to gather you into his arms and keep you there. the flushed cheeks affirms - despite saying it with full confidence, it was just - his hunch.

oh.

the ceremony proceeds rather smoothly. you’re still sniffling when your father passes your hand to him at the end of the aisle. the older man himself looks distraught. either he knows you’re against this marriage and hates himself for failing to put his daughter’s happiness before the guaranteed wealth that comes from marrying you off to the kim family or you’d gotten into a fight with him in a last ditch attempt to convince him to call off the marriage.

either way, you’re here now. the pastor’s words are muddled in your ears but it’s enough to take note of the end tone and the steely silence that ensues which could only mean it’s your turn to say those words.

“i do.” they’re the easiest to get over with.

after endless fights with your parents, going on two hunger strikes and running away to paris for a year - you know you’re in the endgame. and you’ve painstakingly and sorely lost.

he lifts the veil off your face, taking his time with setting it over your head. it’s no secret that kim namjoon is handsome. the kind of thick, textured-fabric-suit-wearing and sleek-back hair kind of handsome. yoongi was more of the hoodie-and-jeans and messy-in-need-of-a-trim hair kind of handsome. but he isn’t yoongi.

you screw your eyes shut, refusing to let the memories of your own wedding vows embed in your head. those beautiful pink full lips are as soft as they look. but they’re not kissing you on your pressed-into-a-straight-line lips. betrayed by your curiosity, your eyes flutter open only to gaze upon the smooth cream skin that wraps around his neck and just the gentle protrusion of his adam’s apple as he pulls way.

your newly-wed husband has just kissed you on the forehead.

x

adjusting to married life is as easy as slipping on your favorite shoes. it’s perfect. almost unsettling even. the beach house off the coast of the private island namjoon’s family owns is breathtaking. the sound of waves crashing against the shores is your constant companion as you work on your research. it’s a project you had to put aside when you graduated. the first year at the hospital is the busiest, or so your senior colleagues say. 

namjoon strides into the kitchen sometime past noon, all fresh and showered with a fitting long sleeved shirt and trousers. it’s the most dressed down you’ve ever seen and yet for some people you know, it’s the fanciest they can get. sometimes you wonder if the standards have hit the ground or if namjoon’s so well-adapted into the routine of dressing up presentable enough to go to his office on an off day in case something calls for it.

“good morning.” you greet first, traces of the embarrassing tear-jerking wedding ceremony still lingers in the back of your mind - you’d tried to explain yourself on the way here in the boat but namjoon had easily blew your worries away with a light chuckle and a “i’d do the same too if i loved someone and had to marry another person.”

it’s not unusual for you to already be perched on the elegant gold sofa adjacent to the sliding doors that has the best view of the sea. the master bedroom is the other part of the beach house with spectacular view - you’d been entranced when you stepped into the room on your first day. but namjoon suggested you stay in the guest room, knowing there’s no way you would share a bed with him -

“or you can take this room and i take the guest room,” he added a moment later, probably because he saw you staring out the balcony, bewitched by the sea. that had broke you from your trance and you’d shook your head so much in protest, you were surprised it didn’t fall right off your neck. “n-no! i mean - i’ll take the guestroom.”

his parents had been nice enough to lend their private beach house for you honeymoon. you weren’t going to step over their son and conquer the master bedroom - even if technically, you’re now part of the family.

“morning.” he fixes you with that half-smile. the kind of smile you give to someone you’re in an complacent relationship with but nothing more.

at least you’ve got that going for you. and that’s a rarity coming from the gossips you’ve heard here and there about marriages found on the ground of convenience.

his eyes swipe over the ipad in your shorts-donned lap from his spot, leaned against the counter in the kitchen, pitch black mug of coffee with wafts of smoke coming out of it, “how’s your research going?”

“well,” you set the ipad down on the glass surface of the coffee table, it’s bare of anything besides your phone that’s been lighting up from the notifications. one from your mother, another from the group of friends you found in college, and the rest is from your strictly-women group from the hospital, “the world wide web is resourceful and all but it can’t beat the information in actual books - papers, you know?”

“ah, the traditional way of researching.” he chuckles, dimples digging into his cheek, enhancing his handsome features. you never knew he had dimples. not that you knew much about him - you’d only properly talked on the day of your wedding, in the back room and the first thing you said was -

you suppress the memories further down your thoughts. it works for the most part, but you can’t help the flush that spreads across your face. so the laugh you let out is a little strained and if he notices, he doesn’t show - like he pretends not to notice a plenty many things.

but alas, he knew your secret crush - was it still just a crush you had for yoongi? you’re not sure.

“what can i say? i’m raised traditional.”

x

that was two weeks ago. now, you’re back to working your ass off at the hospital, being grilled to the bones by your supervisor, getting reprimanded over being one minute late and then being told to run to the cafe five minutes from the hospital to buy your supervisors their favorite strawberry smoothie topped with sprinkles.

“kim seokjin, that dickwad.” jennie huffs, her cat-like eyes making it appear as though she’s plotting the man’s death. “he’s working you to the bones as soon as you get back.”

“he probably thinks i’m not that serious about my residency since my family has enough fortune to sustain me for my whole lifetime,” you can only laugh at that, her anger has sucked all the tiredness and annoyance you have for your supervisor right out of you. it feels refreshing, “all the more reason to prove him wrong.”

“enough about that asshole,” jisoo waves a dismissive hand off and you know what’s coming is far more terrifying: she blinks, eyes filled with stars and cherry red lips curling into the kind of smile that can only mean one thing, “how was it? the second son of kimcorp. were there rose petals on bed? candles lit around the house? a romantic, sizzling-”

“sorry, jisoo, i gotta go get ready for the dinner. i’ll buy you lunch tomorrow, okay?” you clasp your hands together apologetically when your phone buzzes with the reminder you set a week prior: 8am annual kimcorp dinner.

you breathe a sigh of relief as you shake off your white coat, draping it over your recliner before escaping to the washroom with a bag of makeup and the dust-proof cover bag of the outfit you’re wearing for tonight. by the time you’re touching up on your nude lipstick, your phone buzzes again but this time, the screen lights up with namjoon’s name on it.

“hey,” his voice is deeper through the phone - it’s the first time he calls you. there was never any reason for you to call each other but you suppose, he’s calling to make sure you’re not forgetting the dinner -

“i’m in front of the hospital.”

or maybe not.

“wh-what do you mean?” your cheeks heat up from the thought of namjoon waiting for you in his audi. the image, too domestic for your liking.

“well, you can’t drive so i thought i’d pick you up.” he says it like its the simplest equation to understand.

“namjoon,” the name feels foreign on your tongue regardless of how many times you taste it when you need to tell him something - to set the line straight, “i didn’t know you were gonna pick me up so i already told kyungsoo to pick me up. he’s probably already here. sorry i didn’t tell you sooner.”

“i know,” he says simply.

“e-excuse me?” while you’re beyond confused.

“i told your parents i’d pick you up so kyungsoo’s driving them to the dinner.”

“oh.”

wait. what?! 

x

namjoon is confident in his driving skills - as he is with everything he does. he’s almost perfect. the line of his shoulders seem at ease as he stirs the wheel with one hand and the other rests on the gear, inches away from your scarlet clad thighs.

“why isn’t hoseok driving you?” the aforementioned man sticks to him like glue. everywhere namjoon goes, he goes. it’s a given since he’s the head secretary but anyone who’s seen them interact could tell there’s more than boss-employee relationship between them. they seem like close friends which is unlikely be given namjoon’s too-serious nature and hoseok’s joke-cracking every five minutes - but not impossible.

his face remains the same as he keeps his eyes on the road, humming briefly, “he had a thing.”

“can secretaries have a thing and leave their boss to drive for himself like that?” that doesn’t sound right. you may not be actively involved in fecam industries’ affairs but mr. jung, your dad’s secretary, spends more time with your dad than the two men do with their wives - that’s how demanding the business world is. but could hoseok get a free pass because of his and namjoon’s friendship?

namjoon chuckles, dimples and all and you can’t help but blush at the side profile. if anything, he has a sharp jawline and beautiful neck-

you push the thought as soon as it comes. neck? who finds necks beautiful?

“he had a date but it’s not until a couple hours,” the tone he uses is light and playful but underlined with a sort of bashfulness that you don’t know kim namjoon was capable of, “i told him to go home because i wanted to pick you up myself.”

your cheeks heat up all over again as you stare at him a little too long. so much so, the hand that’s been comfortably perched on the gear goes to the back of his neck in an unsure manner.

“i just needed to talk to you about something.” he explains, just as awkward as he was in the back room at the church.

“okay.” eyes turned to the road too, you can see namjoon breathing a sigh of relief from your periphery. that couldn’t have been because of you could it? was he nervous because you were watching him? “what did you want to talk about?”

he clears his throat, that natural ease in his tone returning, “if it gets uncomfortable - if anyone asks, we met because you were yoongi’s fiancee and we couldn’t help but fall in love. but you wanted to intern at a hospital in paris so that’s why we’ve only gotten married now.”

you take awhile to digest the information until something in your stomach doesn’t sit right with you, “you want me to... lie?”

his bottom lip gets trapped between his teeth just for the briefest moment as he thinks about it. he probably didn’t expect you to disagree but he admits his mistake faster than half the people you know your whole life would, “i’m sorry, i didn’t think it would weight on your conscience. i was thought it’d be hard on you if some ass- someone’s going to start a rumor about you but i didn’t ask how you’d feel about it.”

“i see.” you simply nod. it’s true that you’re the pass-up fiancee who got between two people who fell in love in college but the other is the son of a renown family and engaged while the other is an arts major from a normal working family. unable to let bygones be bygones, you decide to marry the younger brother to your fiance - or so the story goes. “but they already know i was yoongi’s fiancee and i ended up marrying you. i don’t need - no, i don’t want to explain myself to anyone.”

despite that big talk, your can feel the prickle of tears in your eyes. namjoon steals a glance at you and he never mentions the glassiness of your gaze - if anything, he smiles. it’s different than the usual smiles. this one, though wordless, says he’s following your flow. do what you like and if and when things get though, you can count on me.

x

dinner has yet started when you arrived. guests are still arriving and waiters and waitresses are carrying trays of champagne glasses around. in a distance, your friends wave at you to come over. you smile, hand falling away from namjoon’s since you needed to at least do that in front of the paparazzo that were waiting outside. eager, hungry for gossip about the wedding that shook south korea’s business world.

“girl, you are glowing.”  yerin literally screams. it’s a secret to no one that she’s hinting on your recent marriage and private island getaway. but nothing happened.

“how are you girls? it’s been so long.” you side hug eunha, letting her arms wrap around your waist as you stand huddled together.

you haven’t seen them since you got back from paris. the wedding was attended by thousands of people - all of whom, your and namjoon’s family’s associates. but you had your hands full shaking hands and smiling next to your husband because these people matter to namjoon. or at least he has an interest over them. business deals. merges. trades. kimcorps carries out every kinds of business they can get their hands on. namjoon passingly mentioned about the work-in-progress for a private hospital.

you dread the likelihood of having to leave the hospital you’re working in right now for family-run one but you know it’s quite impossible to not get involved when you, yourself is a doctor.

“we weren’t the ones who went under the radar and came back and got married to the second son of kimcorp.” yuju huffs sulkily, cheeks pinked from the champagne she’s had but she isn’t that far gone when she clamps her mouth shut a second later, eyebrows furrowing in guilt.

sowon nudges her side anyway, mouthing her something as your gaze falls on the light caught in your black gucci heels.

“i-i’m sorry, ___ that didn’t come out right.” comes a heartbeat later, she sounds just as sorry as her words as you offer her a small smile. 

“it’s okay, it’s the truth anyway.”

“stop that,” eunha suddenly gripes, her gaze boring into you and rips apart the barrier you’ve tried so hard to maintain, “we’ve been friends since elementary school, we know how whipped you are for that asshole so-” she sniffles while you’re left wondering if it’s her who had an ex-fiance break if off and had his parents relay the news on a bi-weekly dinner. 

“she’s trying to say you can cry or get mad or curse that dipshit around us. don’t hold back.” sowon finishes, lips twitching as she enjoys watching the vulnerable state of the otherwise fiercest one among you.

something in your chest feels light. like a weight being lifted off your shoulders as you study the girl’s face one by one. sowon’s and yerin’s smirk, yuju’s nodding and eunha’s teary eyes. 

“yoongi, he’s-” you take a deep breath and it feels almost dramatic as the second stretches on while you build up the hurt, the anxiousness, the disbelief that the man put you through, “-a fucking idiot.”

“you bet he is,” yerin’s basically screams, swiping a glass for you and holding hers up, “that fucking idiot.”

you tighten your side hug on eunha in an ‘i’m okay’ gesture as you clink your glasses together.

it’s a few moments later that murmurs start to spread around. the tension that comes with the latest arrived guest thick enough to command every attention in the room.

“she’s ballsy. coming here.” sowon offhandedly comments, eyes trained on the girl who has her hand on yoongi’s arm like an iron clamp. “right into the lion’s den.”

she may not have her parents’ money to groom her into the women you and the girls are. but maybe that’s why she has her own air. her poised steps, coupled with a cocktail creme laced dress and relaxed smile easily gives her an innocent cloak. someone friendly and good-tempered and can adjust well to her suddenly-plunged-into-money circumstance when she married yoongi. that must have been why you never heard any bad rumors about her even though there’s almost always at least one gossip enthusiast in these socials.

“ugh, i hate her!” yuju hisses, eyes more focused as she places her glass onto one of the waiter’s trays.

“i-i think i’m going to get myself some snacks.” with that, you slip past the guests until you’re at the end of the room, standing in front of the everything-you-can-eat table lined up with pastries only from the best bakes.

that moment, when you looked from her to yoongi, your eyes met. his hair is a little longer than you remember it, flowing in light blue tresses until just a few centimeters above his eyebrows. the first two buttons of his shirt is undone. her doesn’t wear a necktie - he despises how suffocating they feel. but he’s managed to keep on his blazer - he used to say they were hot and took them off and left them in the back seat of the car when you arrived at an event. he used to attend these events with you. just the two of you. for four years. you thought you’d keep doing so for longer after you got married.

“you know, they’re not plastic and made for display.” a voice breaks you from your train of thoughts.

“p-pardon?” you blink once. confused.

“the pastries,” namjoon lulls his head to the side where towers of tarts, macaroons, pavlova and sliced cakes stand tall and proud, “they’re edible.”

it takes a moment for you to register that he was joking - kim namjoon? cracking jokes?

his smile tilts higher when you chuckle. it’s brief but the look of relief oh his face lingers. he must have seen you escape from your group of friends. and this is his own way of checking up on you.

“thank you, namjoon.” you murmur low enough for only you and him to hear, lips tugging in the corners. “but i’m fine - i just - seeing him for the first time like this - it’s just unexpected. even though this is an annual dinner held by his family and he has every right to be here.”

“that’s her? the ex-fiancee?” a guest asks in a hushed tone somewhere a few feet away. but she’s not very discreet as she thinks she is.

“yeah, she couldn’t get the older brother so she went for the younger one.”

apparently, her company needs to attend classes on how-to-whisper-101 too.

“how mortifying. and the brother just goes with it?”

“he must have felt compelled to save her face. you know how nice and well-mannered he is-”

the low noise namjoon makes under his breath catches your attention. the muscles on his face is strained and twisted. it barely shows. just a crease between his eyebrows and the lack of smile. he hardly ever smiles from the tabloids and interviews you’ve seen of him so people might not notice the displeasure. but after a whole month of knowing namjoon, if there’s anything you can say for certain about the man, it’s the stockpile of smiles he has to offer.

“namjoon, it’s okay. i don’t care.” you smile, it’s forced and you know he notices it right off the bat but sighs anyway, shoulder line falling just slightly as he runs a hand over his sleek styled hair.

his lips move and you hear the words he uttered but somehow your mind couldn’t comprehend the information without going blank. “s-sorry?”

“it agitates me that they’re freely spewing bullshit like this,” he huffs, cheeks tinted pink at having to repeat his words. “it’s taking everything in me not to go over there and tell them their husbands have at least one business deal with kimcorp. and i can end it and it’d plunge their family into bankruptcy.”

“wh-why would you do such a thing?” the question comes out almost dumbly but if it did, he doesn’t say. he just... keeps looking at you.

you’re barely able hold yourself from squirming under his scrutiny, the smile now awkward in all places.

“if you don’t mind, can i kiss you?” his eyes widen just the slightest bit as he corrects himself, “on the forehead i mean.”

he clears his throat, eyes straying away from you as if he couldn’t bear to look at your face after that mistake. “just so i can prove to them i wasn’t forced to marry you.”

the light pinkish blush spreads to the tip of his ears and neck as he shifts his weight from one foot to another. you’re not sure why, but the sight in front of you is endearing and you find yourself saying-

“okay, kiss me.”

you didn’t specify where. and maybe, as the heat flares across your own cheeks when his arm band around your waist and a warm hand presses up against you cheekbone - maybe you want him to kiss you somewhere else.

the chatter stops and so does time. but it’s only for as long as namjoon’s full lips are on your forehead, kissing you for the second time. then, time resumes and murmurs begin to spread louder than when yoongi made his arrival. when the gravelly voice speaks from somewhere behind namjoon, you know why.

“get a room, will you?” yoongi’s tone is light - you’d taken a whole year getting used to it to know he’s being playful and not condescending.

“yoongi.” namjoon greets, unlike the elder man, his sounds better natured but there’s a sort of underlying detachment. his arm is still on your lower back almost as if he needs to feel that you’re here or he’d be completely detached. “i didn’t think you’d show up. you hate these events.”

the aforementioned man draws out a long sigh as though he’s been found out over a poorly told lie. “i don’t but naeun wanted to go - you know how things are with mom and dad. she thinks it’s gonna make them open up.”

it’s no secret your father and mother-in-law doesn’t talk about yoongi’s marriage - they never do around you but you thought they were being considerate. but what yoongi’s saying right now could mean his relationship with his parents are far more strained than you thought it’d be. especially since they had let him marry the girl of his dreams who’s clearly below their standards.

she - naeun - is standing somewhere near the exit, conversing with the notorious older generation that yerin duped ‘the wickeds’. for their ways of gaining wealth, for their poor treatment towards their employees, for socially shunning a young man - new money, for addressing one of them casually. she is ballsy.

“it’s been awhile,” yoongi’s directly addressing you now. the tug on his lips as playful as an old friend’s greeting. you don’t know how he can look at you like nothing happened. “you’re finally a resident now, huh?”

“yeah, finally.” you smile, the kind of smile that celebrates her triumph. the celebration part is true but the smile is every bit unnatural. but it seems to fool yoongi as he nods, proud.

somewhere in your chest, the strings on your heart clenches at the unchanging personality of this man. no wonder you like him.

before the conversation can tread further down memory lane, there’s an announcement to have the guests move to another room where dinner is being served.

“we’ll get going first then.” namjoon announces, guiding you by the waist as yoongi nods, waiting for naeun to come to his side before going in himself.

x

 dinner went smoother than expected. yoongi and naeun showed up uninvited and were placed in the back seats where the people socially displaced guests are. you felt bad when you saw naeun’s distorted expression as waiters bring in chairs to the table for the both of them. but there’s nothing you could have done.

“you have an 8am shift tomorrow, right?” namjoon asks as you slip your heels off, wincing at when one of them brushes against the blisters. they’re gonna be a bitch to deal with tomorrow.

stretching your arms out as you walk up the stairs, you hum in confirmation. “mhm, and you have dinner with ms. yoo, right?”

it’s ironic how you know each other’s schedule despite not being anything more than two people sharing one house and happens to be married. guess you’ll chalk it up with the fact that you both respect each other enough to be aware of each other’s whereabouts - not the creepy kind of way but the share-me-your-live-location-so-i-know-you’re-safe kind of way.

namjoon was quiet until you take a left to where the guest bedroom-turned-permanent-bedroom is, “it got rescheduled.”

your hand hovers over the door handle as you crane your neck to look at the man on the top of the stairs. his bow tie is loosened, the button to his color undone and his blazer is draped over one arm - a telltale sign of a final end to the night. “i was hoping we could have dinner to together. after work.”

yes but you don’t usually go straight home after work. you usually spend time at the library either at your previous college or at the hospital. you’ve decided to continue your research no matter how taxing it may be since you came back from the honeymoon. namjoon knows and the fact he asks you to dinner anyway - it’s unlike him.

he’s the kind of person that would ask if you had free time and match his schedule to yours. not ask for your time.

“yeah, sure.” you say and you think you see his shoulder line sagging as if he’s just let out a long-held breath, “pick me up at 8?”

“yeah.” he nods, dimples showing as his lips curl at your answer, “at 8.”

only when the door closes behind you, do you let yourself slide down to the ground. heels lying next to your thighs and dress in need of being sent for washing. your cheeks are and neck and ears are hot. dinner? just you and namjoon? like... a date?

x

jisoo isn’t around when lunch rolls by.

“a patient got rolled into er this morning - couldn’t contact any of his family members. suho decided to go ahead with surgery but he reacted badly to the anesthesia so she had to make up for her suho’s mistake and monitor his patient.” jennie’s face scrunches at the other woman’s supervisor pushing the task on her. shoving a forkful of the cheese cake, she sighs as the medical professional side take over, “thank god the surgery went smoothly though despite all that.”

you hum in contemplation, comparing the well-established crazy bitch seokjin who pushes those under his supervision to their limits and suho’s less-than-extreme approach. you used to envy jisoo and jennie for getting suho as their supervisor but at the end of the day, with every push from seokjin, you get out of it stronger and wiser. “i hope she doesn’t forget to have her meals.”

the day ends faster than usual. of course with rounds and surgeries you have to assist with, you’ve always find yourself barely realizing the setting sun - the sign of that your shift has ended.

but you could have sworn it was 5pm when you last checked the time. an car crash patient had arrived at the er and you forgot you’d left your phone on your desk, running out to assist the critical patient. it’s only when you’ve plopped into your recliner, head thrown back in fatigue, do you notice the vibration of your phone.

namjoon’s name flashes across your screen. your eyes almost bulges out of their sockets as you swipe to the right.

the deep voice from the other end is as calm as ever, “hey, ___-”

“namjoon!” you almost scream with guilt, phone pressed between your cheek and your shoulder as you shrug the coat off one shoulder before using the free now free hand to hold the phone and shrug off the other shoulder, “where are you?”

“i’m at the parking lot. i couldn’t wait at the lobby because i was obstructing the other cars - i called you a few times.” he sounds almost concerned and your heart clenches tightly in you chest at the thought of him waiting for you for over an hour.

you burst onto the parking lot - searching for the sleek black audi until a red bugatti rolls over. you’re about to take a step back seeing as you’re almost standing in the middle of the road - when the driver on the other side of the car steps out. his usually gelled hair is mussed from the amount of times he ran his hand over it, cuffs rolled to just below his elbow, revealing the dark veins that run just below the skin on his arm. 

namjoon fixes you with that eased smile, going around the gently purring vehicle and opening the door to the passenger seat for you. the arm which hand he uses to hold the door open pulls on the thin fabric of his button down in all the right places. so this is a the normal end-of-the-day look.

you always get back a bit later than him and by the time he looks up from his work that’s laid out over the coffee table, he would usually already have bathed and changed into one of those long-sleeved shirts.

x

the restaurant he initially booked for dinner had cancelled. naturally. so you end up in a barbecue place five minutes away from the hospital. this is where you and your colleagues go when to celebrate a birthday, promotion or finally-having-a-boyfriend/girlfriend.

the slices of meat sizzles on the grill, its marinated aroma wafting in the air. but your stomach churns with a different kind of sensation - guilt. “i-i’m sorry. because of me you had to wait an hour and got cancelled by the restaurant.”

then, he chuckles. it’s the same kind of good natured chuckle that reverberates every time you say something amusing - but you can’t see how any of this is.

his says your name. the syllabus rolls out of his tongue in waves but you chalk up the blush spreading on your face with the heat of the grill so close to you. he leans back against the backrest, sleeves filled out to the brim as he crosses his arms over his chest. “you were the one saving a life. all i did was wait.”

“y-yeah but still.” no emergency is foreseeable, otherwise you could have saved more lives than you do now. and it’s still not enough. “i forgot about you.”

namjoon nods, taking your words into consideration - as if he never thought about it that way. as if he truly doesn’t mind wasting his time over some woman he has to tolerate because he’s married to her. “cook me dinner then.”

“wh-what?”

“i don’t want you to beat yourself up and i know whatever i say is going to come off as me being nice.” the corners in his lips tugs upwards, “so make it to me by cooking dinner.”

once your brain is done registering what he said, you clutch your hands in your lap as though you’re clinging onto this one time chance to make up for your fault, “yes! i-i mean yeah, sounds fair.”

the smooth sound of his chuckle isn’t lost to the sizzle of the meat. to him, it must be a small matter but to you, it’s a matter of pride.

“this saturday then?” you offer, a bit too eager.

almost as if remembering something, he releases a long drawn out sigh, “business trip to tokyo.”

“next weekend?”

“mom’s home sweeter home fundraiser for the orphans on saturday. sunday?”

“night shift. how bout breakfast?”

“golf with seollyu’s director.”

a heavy pause lapses in the room. after a moment, namjoon reaches for the chopsticks, flipping the slices of meat over.

your shoulders sag, lips pursed in a pout. this isn’t an unusual occurrence in your years of being the daughter of your family. your father is devoutly involved in the family business and your mother is busy with her charity work. you’ve celebrated birthdays with the staff more than you do with them.

the glint of the chopstick that’s placing a piece of meat on your plate catches your eyes. you study the long nimble fingers to the vein that runs from the back of its hand and disappear somewhere below his arm before you gulp, meeting his eyes - did he notice you checking out his arm?

“we’ll figure something out.” if he did, he doesn’t say as he fixes you with an assuring smile, “but right now you need to get some food in you. eat up dr. ___. you did great today at work.”

this time, you really can’t blame the grill for the blush.

x

“you could’ve told mom you couldn’t do brunch.” namjoon tells you in the elevator to the 15th floor of your in-laws’ house. it’s been three days since that night. he’s left for work but prior to this morning, he’d already made it clear that it was no problem at all picking you up from home.

he’s probably saying this because of the lack of makeup you’d put on. some pats of compact powder and bright red lipstick can’t hide the bags underneath those tired eyes. you’d spend extra hours reading about the defective genes and the fix to remodel them so every child born from parents from a history of relatives with inheritable diseases could live a life without the risk of said disease.

“i’m fine.” you wave a dismissive hand before stretching in the compact space in a last ditch attempt to wake yourself up and hopefully look fresher by the time you reach the floor. “’sides, i’ve been so focused on work, it’s nice to see mom and dad every once in awhile.”

you’ve gotten used to referring to mr. and mrs. kim as if they’re your own parents - in a way, they are. you’ve known them for as long as you can remember.

“you have to be at the hospital by noon, right?”

you hum in confirmation. though you insisted on grabbing a cab to the hospital since it’s on the opposite side of the office, namjoon had insisted better. “mhm, oh we’re here.”

a ding! echoes throughout the elevator when it stops, doors opening to a hallway with black and yellow walls and ceiling, paired with honey marble flooring. it takes a few seconds before the black door at the end of the hallway to swing open but instead of the warm smile of the elderly lady, a bring and vibrant naeun beams at the both of you.

“you’re here. come in.” she steps aside, the hem of her sundress fluttering as she moves.

your body tenses at the proximity of the woman who you thought you could avoid until a much later time. and from the barely noticeable lifted brows that namjoon does, you know he wasn’t expecting his sister-in-law too. if she’s here, so is yoongi.

“we picked these up on the way.” you hand her the paris baguette paper bag. you’d ordered a mix of fruit tarts, cinnamon rolls and macaroon. all of which you remember mrs. kim mentioning to be her favorites. 

“oh! you shouldn’t have but thank you.” up close, naeun is much more prettier with a natural pinkish tint across her cheeks that makes her seem dreamy and glossed cheery lips that complements the gentle air she carries around. she passes the bag to one of the staff that’ll probably unbox them and plate them.

you offer her a smile - though a bit strained. and she must have noticed when she sighs softly, eyes darting to her fuchsia flats before looking back up at you with a furrowed brows. but even when she’s frowning, she’s pretty.

“i’ve been wanting to meet you and properly apologize for not being able to attend the wedding - i had an exhibition that day in prague and yoongi wouldn’t let me go by myself even though i thought at least one of us should go to his brother’s wedding.” she chuckles at the last part as if replaying the heartwarming scene of her protective husband choosing his wife over his family. you can feel every fiber of your body coiling and writhing - it takes everything for you not to leave through the door. would yoongi have done the same for you?

“this must be awkward for you, isn’t it?” her lips tug into a half-smile - a telltale that she’s equally uncomfortable to talk about this topic. “with you and yoongi being engaged before but now i’m the one married to him. but i hope we can put everything past us and be a family.”

but something in the way she talks - it’s as if she sympathizes. as if she’s saying it’s okay, you shouldn’t feel ashamed. but what are you supposed to be shameful of? of being engaged to yoongi before? of marrying his brother when said engagement fell through? perhaps you should have gave mrs. kim a hard ‘no’ when she pleaded with teary eyes for you and your parents’ forgiveness when she and mr. kim had to break the news over dinner two years ago. so you wouldn’t have to develop a hard skin and pretend you didn’t care about the ruthless rumors that have spread far and wide after your marriage to namjoon. 

“oh? yeah, it was a long time ago.” you offhandedly say - it’s that moment, when her eyes twitches just the slightest bit that you realize it wasn’t all just in your head. she did mean to make you feel embarrassed when she started mentioning the engagement.

you join namjoon and mrs. kim at the garden while naeun follows suit a second later, taking the middle among the three seats. the elder woman’s eyes light up at the sight of you, her heels clacking against the wooden flooring as she crosses the distance and engulfs you in a hug. you hug back, smiling at the woman’s motherly warmth.

“___, my favorite daughter, what happened to you?” she cups your cheeks, brows furrowing as she seem to examine your complexion.

you should’ve used concealer. 

“the hospital is working you to the bone isn’t it? why, it’s been awhile since i had lunch with chairman lee, maybe i should give his wife a call.”

that’s how it works when you have connections. if someone’s daughter or son fails to get into college or a job through regular exams or interviews, a dinner or lunch with the director of the institution will get the child admitted overnight. that’s probably why seokjin was harder on you than usual when you got back from your honeymoon - he must think you’re not serious about being a doctor. it’s not a secret he came from old money but he’d cut off all ties with his family when he started working. he has more ethics than half of the people you know.

“___ doesn’t like it when you do these things, mom.” yoongi grumbles - always the painfully honest one. the chair screeches as he pulls it and plops between naeun and namjoon while their father occupies the seat next to mrs. kim. it looks like they just came from mr. kim’s home office. and judging from the stiffness of their posture, the talk must have been a serious one.

namjoon’s shoulder line tightens just the slightest bit - you almost thought it was just a figment of your imagination but when you steal a glance at his face, you know he’s not too keen in having yoongi sit next to him. so you weren’t imagining it when he seemed like he was escaping yoongi by not waiting for naeun to come and walk with you to into the dining hall.

you’re not lost to yoongi’s familiar tone when he spoke on your behalf. but you’re not happy either. forcing a laugh, you push a strand to the back of your ear for the sake of doing something, “i-it’s not the hospital. i’ve been staying up late to work a bit on my research.”

a worker comes with the baked goods you brought. they’re plated on perfectly polished ceramic - you can easily see your forced smile in its reflection when the woman sets them down the table in front of you. 

“research?” yoongi lifts one eyebrow at you. too casually. and it takes you back to those times when you used to visit him at his college’s library and you’d bring your homework with you whilst you slip in a few ‘what i did’s as he typed away on his mac but still managed to keep up with you and asked questions here and there. a sign that he’d been present and listening.

“___’s been working on researching how segregate defective genes during the fetal stage so the fetus won’t take on their parents’ inherent diseases when they’re born.” namjoon explains the simplified version almost as though it’s part of his day-to-day line of work. he grins at you, the corners of his lips tugging with pride - a gratification of being able to show you off.

“that’s good. you’re making a difference in this world.” mr. kim is the first to break the silence. and in the years you’ve known him, it means the highest level of flattery you’ll ever get from the man.

your cheeks are flushed red and you know well enough it’s not because of mr. kim’s compliment than it is his son’s. “it’s still just a research draft but th-thank you. mister-” the elder man raises his brow and you quickly correct yourself, “i mean, dad.” 

he nods at the word, the slightest hint of smile disappearing under the cup of tea he brings to his mouth.

“but still, don’t push yourself too hard. working as a doctor takes up a lot of time already.” naeun fixes you with a worried gaze but something about her tone makes your stomach churn - it’s as if she’s playing down the time and effort you’d invested in your research and reminding you to focus on your paying job. even if you did downplay yourself when you were responding to mr. kim. before you can sort out the wave of emotions clashing inside you, namjoon seems to beat you to it.

“not everyone can do what ___’s doing. it’s okay if she wants to do more,” a hand slips under yours in your lap, reverting your gaze from the beautiful woman to the apparent difference in the size of yours and namjoon before you turn your cheek to him. it was a mistake because now you’re holding your breath as you come face to face. his body is leaned into you as he speaks, “i’ll just take care of ___ better.”

he turns to naeun, lips twitching upwards in a brief smile as if to enforce it more and putting a finality to the topic. but you’re left staring at namjoon’s sharp jawline until mrs. kim makes a squealing sound as she clamps her mouth shut in an attempt to tease you.

“gosh, is my baby all grown up now? he’s saying he’ll take care of his wife!”

the chuckle you let out is nowhere near natural or entertained. not when your insides are burning and you think your heart is going into overdrive from how fast it’s beating. and it doesn’t help that namjoon’s too casually playing along “of course, i only have one wife.”

x

“namjoon,” you take a second to gather yourself, hands fiddling in your lap as the car rolls to a stop in front of the lobby. the man fixes you with an inquisitive gaze. of course, who wouldn’t be wondering what’s up if their name was spoken with so much weight in them like you did with namjoon’s? “what was that? the wife thing?”

he stares into the street as he sifts through his memory before he fixes you with a gaze clouded with guilt, “i’m sorry. i got carried away - it won’t happen again.”

and that’s the thing. namjoon is too fast in admitting his fault. but you didn’t bring it up because you wanted an apology-

“no, i don’t mind.” you shake your head almost too eagerly before back tracking and clearing your throat, “i mean, it’s true. we’re married - i am your wife.”

the corners of his lips upturns at your last words and he doesn’t bother to hide it as he waits for you to finish - but how can you when he’s looking at you so tenderly like that?

“it’s just - too soon?” you curse yourself for sounding so meek but any louder, your heart might just jump out of your throat.

namjoon nods, that contemplative look settling on his face and takes away that smile only to return it with a dimpled grin. one hand slides in between yours and guiding the back of your hand to his lips.

“we’ll take it slow then.”

you can only nod, afraid that if you tried to speak, you would forget how to. the light rap on your side of the window catches both your attention. it’s the parking management. stealing a glance at the cars that are beginning to queue up behind you, you hurriedly gather your bag and hop out of the car.

cheeks flushed, you barely register waving back at namjoon when he leans over the passenger seat just to shoot you that dimpled smile and a ‘see you at home’.

you turn on your heels. the sharp click bounces against the white walls. a small smile spreads across your lips as you think about namjoon’s words.

yeah, the penthouse does feel like home.

x

this isn’t slow at all. you’re barely progressing.

it feels like everyday is passing by too fast what with the abundance of functions you’ve told namjoon you wanted to go with when you’re not working, to cramming some time for research and trying to find the time to at least make breakfast when you’re not on morning shift. though on some mornings, he’d beat you to breakfast and you’d wake up to the delectable smell of omelette or bacon.

“you must be thrilled about the new hospital, mrs. kim,” mrs. hwan is generally an agreeable woman along with her husband, the president of a small startup firm. they’re the first couple to approach you and namjoon since you arrived at the party. but that’s just it - the smiling, the talking, the eagerness doesn’t show in their eyes. it’s all about building connections while maintaining a good enough acquaintanceship. “are you going to be managing it directly since you’re a doctor yourself?”

“naturally,” the tug on your lips and the smoothness of your response is almost effortless. you’re no stranger to this scene - except back then, you would be standing next to yoongi. though your hand wouldn’t be tucked in his arm like yours is with namjoon. “though i still have a lot to learn, i hope the next two years will help me prepare to for eden.”

two years is the estimated time that eden hospital will be able to run. you’d finish your residency by then. all that’s left is to take the next step. just like your parents had planned for you as they’d planned many things. you never had the power to object.

mrs. hwan goes on to sprinkling empty praises while her husband laughs in deflated humor. they say the way to a successful business deal is through the wife.

once namjoon gets swamped by more people, you gently pull your hand away from his arm. you don’t miss the pleading look he fixes you when he notices your intention but you can only return a ‘you can do it!’ smile and slip away from the limelight.

the balcony area is dark, illuminated only by the fading light the pours over the floor past the door frame. you don’t expect the air to be this chilly at the beginning of summer but then again, namjoon did suggest bringing a coat - you were just too stubborn to because it would ruin the off shoulder look of your dress.

a sneeze escapes you a moment later as you hug yourself in an attempt to retain your body heat. but the warmth that engulfs you seems impossible to have come from just your puny palms - heck, your fingers were starting to feel prickly cold. there’s a sort of weight on your shoulders that wasn’t there before-

“idiot, you’re gonna catch a cold.” yoongi tuts from next to you - he has his hands in his pockets, all donned in crisp white shirt and checkered grey trousers and vest. all that’s missing is a matching blazer - the one that he placed around you just now.

somewhere in the recesses of your memories, you remember him taking off the muffler he had on and wrapping it around your neck when you showed up for your ‘christmas date’ with a pink nose and pinker ears - you could barely feel them. yoongi was that kind of person - the kind that acted like everything is a whole load of inconvenience and yet went to greater length to inconvenient himself for you.

“thanks. i thought i was going to freeze to death if i have to hide out here for another hour.” you tug the thick material of the blazer closer - the warmth of his heat feels just right.

“then you shouldn’t have come in the first place.” he must have noticed the higher-than-an-octave tone he uses before ruffling his hair - it’s the first you’ve ever seen him so unsure. is it really because of you?

“it’s fine. besides, what kind of wife would i be if i let namjoon get eaten by the pack of wolves by himself?” you chuckle at the fact that you’d done just that when you escaped the growing crowd of businessmen.

but when you notice the lack of humor on yoongi’s face, your own dies down. he’s staring at you with an indecipherable look. it’s not the bored expression he usually sports - not also the anger from the outburst just now. before you can say anything, namjoon’s lean silhouette appears in the doorway. you can’t see his face but his tone is strained. “we’re leaving, if you’re both done catching up.”

“so soon?” you know for a fact it probably hasn’t even been fifteen minutes - and you’re supposed to linger for at least two hours before leaving. that’d be enough time for namjoon to scout any potential business associate - the worthy ones at least.

“hey little bro.” yoongi waves, the disinterested look now returning but the way he phrases his next words oozes with revulsion. it’s no surprise. while yoongi hates these events - he’s probably here because of naeun, you heard the director of seoul’s annual art exhibition is here - namjoon strives off it. garnering attention and making the best of it by bringing in stockholders. “had enough of ass licking?”

you never understand the tangibility of the tension that feels the air when these two brothers are in the same room together - they’re barely able to remain civil in the presence of mr. and mrs. kim. anywhere without their parents’ watchful eyes, a fight would always be at risk of breaking out. whenever you were around, you’d be the one to interfere, whether it’s to tug on yoongi’s sleeve and tell him you’re hungry, or step in front of him just so he’d remember you’re here or right now-

“thank you, yoongi.” folding the blazer in half, you hand it back to the man - only that he’s not taking it back. momentarily, you wonder if you’d stained it with your lipstick or foundation but the lapels never touched anywhere above your neck. but deep in the crook of your conscience, you know it’s when his mind retracts back to you, to the present.

the sigh that escapes yoongi is a telltale of fatigue - you wonder if this is the first time of the day he came out of his studio. taking the blazer from your outstretched hand, he slings it over his shoulder, “don’t get too caught up with these functions. focus on your goal.”

your goal meaning what comes next in your career: the fellowship. you thought that information was lost on him, buried among the many things you told him just because you were comfortable telling him everything. 

and as you watch him walk back into the lion’s den, you wonder, how didn’t you realize he was in love with someone else during the visits you paid while he was doing his masters and phd?

x

namjoon doesn’t say anything about yoongi in the car. but both his hands are on the wheel. knuckles a little paler from holding onto the wheel.

“you don’t have to be part of eden’s board of directors.” he huffs, as though annoyed but from the way he continues, you know he’s not annoyed at you. he’s annoyed at himself. “you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to - i don’t want to force anything on you.”

and you know - you know more than anyone how conscious namjoon is of things. from the change in your mood to the people that tries to get close to him because of his status - that’s also why he didn’t kiss you on your lips that day. but a kiss was the prerequisite of a vow so he kissed you on the forehead. the area where his lips landed burns your skin as your cheeks flush from the memory.

“i know.” you hesitate for a heartbeat but reach out to cover one of his hands on the wheel still. to let him know that you’re not just saying that to ease the guilt.

when you pull away from the thought of how risky and distracting what you did was, the hand that you were lightly caressing pulls at yours, intertwining your fingers as he keeps them on his thigh. your entire body burns from the contact yet you’re sitting frozen in your spot. it’s the gentle squeeze on your hand that brings you out of your shell-shock state. a smile tugs on your lips subconsciously as you squeeze back.

x

the following week, you almost got into a fight with namjoon when he caught you dressing up prettily. he told you it was okay not to attend these functions anymore - the ones your tight schedule barely allow you to. fight was an overstatement. your feelings were hurt when he’d kissed your temple and said, “it’s okay, you don’t have to push yourself.”

well, you were but he wasn’t seeing the bigger picture. “can’t you see? i wanna spend more time with you and the only way i can is if we attend these functions together.”

in hindsight, you probably shouldn’t have thrown your strapless black diamond purse at him out of frustration.

but the following functions, you did spend more time together. he’d declined the usual advancement of business people the way only kim namjoon could pull off - with a dimpled smile and a hand around your waist as if to indicate that they were interrupting - and they were. they’d come up to the both of you while you were telling namjoon about a new skillet spaghetti recipe you’d wanted to try making for the long overdue dinner you owe him. and you’d expected someone to approach namjoon and take his attention away but you didn’t think he’d decline them.

“hm? i don’t think we have tomatoes or beef. should we go grocery shopping?” he suggests calmly as though he didn’t just turn down the chairman of tvn broadcast. the man had to do a double take in case he had mistaken namjoon’s smooth rejection.

you place a hand on his chest, restraining the urge to pull your hand away as if you’ve touched fire. you knew he goes to the gym for an hour after work and his shirts always seem a size too small around his arms but you didn’t expect anything beyond that underneath that shirt of his. you clear your throat when you realize his neck is craned so he could look at you - give you all the attention in the world, “you know, we can discuss dinner some other time - when you’re free.”

but neither of you are free. you barely see each other at home because of your unpredictable schedule and his that’s set in stone.

“then what would you rather us talk about right now?” a corner of his lips tugs upwards. if you first met him, you wouldn’t easily dismiss the smile as nothing more than because of his amiable nature. but you’ve been married for almost five months now and you clearly pick up on the playfulness that lights up his eyes.

“the desserts.” you announce too quickly in an attempt to avert his attention from what he’s thinking - one thing you’ve realized is that namjoon is painfully aware of your blushing fits and your avoidance to look him in the eyes. “they’re nice, aren’t they?”

all of a sudden, he’s scooping a forkful of the chocolate souffle he’d picked up from the desserts section while you’d opted for the luscious almond torte. a small smirk tugs on his lips as he holds the fork to your mouth the way he does during breakfast. he knows you have no objections of being fed like a child but he also knows where you stand with public display of affection.

“say ‘aaaaa’ and i’ll give you a treat, doctor ___.” and he loves to tease you. he’s taken to calling you that because of that one incident where he’d seen you discuss about a patient with one of the nurses while you were on your way to meet him. in his own words, he’d ‘never seen you this scary before.’

in your defense, it was five minutes till lunch break so it was still working hours and you were acting the way you usually did at work - but you’d understand. the person you are with friends and the person you are at work are two separate entities. suppose you’ve mastered separating personal business and work. namjoon seems to take pleasure in making that steadfast side of you squirm and blush like a tomato.

your fingerpads gently grazes the back of his hand as you hold the fork in place before taking it in your mouth. your eyes flit over namjoon’s for the briefest moment before taking a step back, licking the residue of souffle off your lips.

“they really are nice.” you murmur as you throw your gaze at the stage where a man sits at the piano before flickering back to namjoon.

you wonder why he’s so quiet all of a sudden -

the man in question still has the empty fork in the air, eyes wide and staring at you, you would’ve thought he’d seen a ghost. until you notice the dust of pink across his cheek and spread to the tip of his ears.

oh?

x

mrs. kim’s fundraiser is held at the school where the children attended. about four canopies were set up on the field. one for the children’s activities - you remember reading something about coloring, origami-making and storybook reading.  the volunteers - possibly college students hoping to earn the graces of kimcorp’s president’s wife for an internship - already have the children huddled up in groups of three or four.

one canopy is specifically set up for a table of wide range of food - if there’s anything you like about these functions, it’s the abundance of food they never fail to prepare. as if spending a lot of money on a fundraising event is something to flex about.

the other two canopies are for the people of interest - acquaintances of mrs. kim and those who come with an ulterior motive be it to get sponsors for their own project, a business deal or simply to regain a higher social hierarchy by falling into your mother-in-law’s graces.

you press a light kiss on namjoon’s cheek before he’s whisked away by the second category. business men who jump at the sight of your ceo husband who got a fair warning from mrs. kim to “play nice. what’s gotten into you all of a sudden? these days i keep hearing things about you turning chairmen down! your father didn’t work this hard just to raise a stuck up son that could ruin his business in a matter of days.”

once you’ve had a slice of red velvet and tiny macaroons, you decide to hide yourself from the few people who try to do the same to you when namjoon is too preoccupied by the ones who claimed his attention first. just like preys on the top of the pyramid sinking its claws, the lower level preys couldn’t come close.

but one manages to follow you into one of the classrooms.

“nothing’s changed has it?’ yoongi stands in the doorway, tuxedo and brown loafers and all. hands tucked into both his pockets, he strides across the room and stops in front of the window that overlooks the light pink canopies and the people underneath them. “same old assholes using a charitable cause to proliferate their influence.”

the muscles on your face pulls your lips into a disapproving frown, “that’s how our parents manage to give us an education. a good life.” you don’t agree to the way they go about it but you give credit where it’s due.

yoongi scoffs, his shoulders jolting slightly. you can’t see his face as he stands with his back on you but you know he’s smirking that condescending smirk. the first time you saw it was when you were in your senior year of high school and yoongi was doing his masters in business and accounting. he’d looked down on the man who approached the two of you like he was scum just because everyone knew his company was wallowing in debt and he’s desperate enough to ask the lion who hates the jungle for help.

“always finding a middle ground. if you like what they do so much, why did you become a doctor? why didn’t you follow their footsteps, huh?”

you can’t help but let out a tired sigh. you’ve been here before. you’ve seen this. yoongi hates the world he’s born in and you understand why but you can never feel what he feels. “why are you here, yoongi? shouldn’t you be with naeun?” there’s a pause. a heartbeat before you decide to let yourself free. say what you want to say. “before the wolves get to her.”

“she’s fine.” it's almost offensive how haughty he sounds. he must either be aware of nauen’s innocence that makes the wolves eliminate the possibility of her being a threat or he just doesn’t care. the latter presumption makes your stomach churn.

did he also not care about you when you were together? when you went to these events as a couple?

“we should head back. it would be bad if anyone saw us alone like this even though we’re just talking.” and that’s that. you turn on your heels, making way to the door but before you can even take another step forward, lithe fingers wrap around your wrist.

“what?” it comes out harsher than you intend it. funny how you put on a face of a woman made out of steel when your knees can barely hold your weight the moment you feel his warm hand on your skin.

“i knew - i knew but i didn’t want to tie you down.” with his head lowered and his long hair, you can’t see his eyes for an idea of what he’s saying. 

“yoongi, what-”

“i knew how you felt.” at that moment, his grip on you loosens. it’s almost as though it’s an overdue confession and the weight on his shoulders has finally lifted, “you only knew me - you turned down every boy that tried to ask you out in high school and college. you -you were only looking at me and i didn’t want that on my shoulders - i didn’t want you to turn down every opportunity to life - to dating, to heart break to - to sex with someone - several someone’s just because we were engaged.”

his fingers traces down your index finger before falling away. but you won’t tell him - you can never do it to namjoon - that it took all of you not to twine your fingers with his just because it felt like he was letting go.

your breath hitches in your throat when you turn your cheek towards him. the sight before you is something you’d never thought you’d see in your entire life. yoongi’s pink dusts his otherwise snowflake skin. the bored expression he usually wears is gone - almost as if he’s never worn it his entire life as something akin to desperation pools in those dark eyes. his soft pink lips are agape as though he wants to say something. and you wait, wait, wait but he never does.

so you turn your back on him, heels clicking against the ground as you slip past the door without a word. only when you’re at the end of the hallway, do you turn the corner, back pressed against the wall because your buckling legs might not be able to handle your weight.

those unsaid words - you can hear them clearly: i fucking regret letting you go.

x

the following week, you spend by drowning yourself in work and later working on your research until the library closes. by the time you’re pressing the 20th floor to the penthouse you both shared, you know for certain namjoon’s gone to bed. he values his sleep time. says it’s essential to keep himself in a good mood so others who work with him would be at ease. sometimes you want to tell him it’s okay not to think about others for once but the words lay buried the depth of your heart because you’re exactly like him. suppressing your feelings, smiling and saying you’re okay even though you’re not. the only difference is there’s a side of you that wants to lash out, do something worse to those who hurt you while namjoon does it from the good of his heart.

“it’s hard, being nice.” he says in between the clink of the stirring of the spoon in his coffee mug.

you look up from the peanut butter you’re spreading over your toast. “hm?”

he shakes his head, as if to say it’s nothing, i’m just thinking out loud. but the words he says next is enough to make your heart drop right to the ground. “yoongi told me.”

“wh-what?” it’s denial in your tone - the combination of those three words are simple enough to take you back to the school nine days ago. in side that little classroom.

“yesterday. he came over to the office.” he shrugs as if it’s no big deal but the tensed line of his shoulders is apparent no matter how casually he brings the mug to his smiling lips - that too. his lips are smiling but his eyes are not.

you don’t know when or how you started noticing the little things. sensing namjoon’s moods - his reactions and his retractions. you never realized you were so in tune with the things he does. all you realize is you’re already able to read him like a book - thick, best-leather book that was safeguarded by a lock.

“namjoon,” the clink of the butter knife being set on your plate resonates like a pin drop in a vacuum room, “nothing happened. i promise.”

“i know - i know you’d never do anything like that so that’s why i’m telling you it’s okay.” something in the way he looks at you make you bite your tongue - as if he’s asking you to listen even though you’re bursting at the seams. you’d do anything to prove that nothing happened even though you knew he knew. “we entered into this marriage for a mutual reason. not dreading to come home is more than i can ask for. so it’s okay if you want to see yoongi just... keep out of the spotlight like many in our shoes who found love outside of it have.”

he chuckles but it’s strained and tense, dumping the coffee into the sink because he couldn’t bear to stay in the kitchen any longer. you slip out of the high stool, feet padding around the counter and before you know it, your arms around his body. you feel him freeze under your touch and this is wrong - wrong on so many levels because he would have asked if he could touch you and you’re not reflecting the same amount of respect he had for you.

but for some reason, you can’t let go - you’re afraid if you let him walk out of the door, you’d never be able to grasp even a shadow of his existence.

“i don’t want to.” the words are muffled from your cheek pressing against his back.

a pause lapses between you when you don’t say anything else. no explanation. no reason. because you don’t know it yourself. you don’t know why your heart clenches in your chest at the sight of namjoon’s dismal smile. you don’t know why you acted on your instincts and hugged the man.

you don’t know.

“okay.” he sighs softly as a warm palm rests above your fisted hand. you wish you can see him - wish you can see what kind of expression he’s making because it’s killing you to not know what he’s thinking. “you don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

that’s when the sniffle escapes you. internally, you curse yourself for being so emotion-driven. it’s not a good trait for a doctor to have.

namjoon calls your name. the syllabus rolling off his tongue makes your stomach churn with butterflies. “are you crying?”

you don’t expect him to say that. don’t expect the teasing undertone either. naturally, your respond comes a heartbeat later, “n-no.”

the body under your touch shifts. all of a sudden, you’re eye-to-eye with him. there’s a sparkle in them that almost makes you forget how to breathe. his dimples dig into his cheek as his lips curl into a smile whilst his large hands frames you face.

“wh-what?” you feel your brows furrowing, lips pursed.

“you’re too cute.” his thumb grazes your burning cheekbone feather light, “i want to kiss you.”

“then do it.” you don’t know the reason behind that angry, pressed tone but namjoon doesn’t seem to mind - or he knows something you don’t.

you don’t have the time to ponder on that when a pair of lush lips meshes with yours. the scent of the coffee he had engulfs your senses as one hand finds its way to the back of his neck and the other rests on his accelerating heartbeat. time seems to stop when namjoon’s kissing you. somewhere in the back of your mind, you distinctly remember something perpetually important but you couldn’t be bothered as his hands fall away from your face and finds the dip of your lower back and pull you closer until your bodies are pressed together.

somewhere in a distant, you hear the beep of the front door. hoseok’s voice booming across the hallway that leads to the living room and the kitchen where you’re at now.

“namjoon? you here? did you oversleep? man, i never thought i’d see the day our ceo is late to work.” hoseok’s footsteps stops at the end of the hallway, “oh great, you’re all dressed.”

he blinks, surprised at the sight of his boss who’s leaning against the edge of the sink - hands pressed on either side of the edge, doing absolutely nothing while you dip a butter knife into a jar of peanut butter and jelly but equally as out-of-it as his boss appear to be.

“y-yeah, let me grab my blazer.” namjoon pushes himself off, going around the counter and heading towards the stairs where his bedroom is until -

“it’s here.” hoseok points out.

“what?”

“your blazer. it’s this one, right?” the secretary loyally scoops up the thick maroon blazer off the couch and hands it to his boss who’s just barely recovered from what seems to be a trance. 

he’d went down and tossed the blazer on the couch before making his coffee - before the kiss.

namjoon clears his throat, refusing to look at the man’s scrutinizing eyes as he thanks him and slips the blazer on. but he loses those eyes when he peeks over the man’s shoulder, mini-waving at you, “hey, morning, doc.”

you return the greeting, refraining a blush as you feel the ghost of namjoon’s lips when you fix his secretary a smile, “hey, hoseok. care to join us for breakfast?”

the man shrugs, eyes flitting over his boss who now seems ready to go, “thanks doc but i had some cereal and cold milk.”

he bids his farewell and escapes out of where he came from, letting the two of do what newly weds do before the other goes to work. it’s in that moment that he realizes with a chill running down his spine as he sat in the driver seat - that namjoon isn’t a bachelor anymore and he couldn’t come and go as he pleases and that he might have interrupted something. come to think of it, both you and namjoon’s cheeks were flushed...

“h-hey boss,” hoseok steals a glance of the man at the backseat through the rear view mirror. he almost chokes on his next words when the man’s eyes meet him but he persists like a man on a mission to not get fired , “y-you know, i’ve been with kimcorp. f-for a long time. i-it’s like my family a-and i’ll work harder from now on.”

confusion flashes across namjoon’s features for the briefest moment. he doesn’t know what makes hoseok say something so out of his character and shakily at that but it’s not the first time that his employee’s said something like this to him - of course, minus the stutter and all.

“that’s good to know, hoseok.” he says simply.

x

it’s been a week since you told namjoon you didn’t - wouldn’t see anyone. yoongi or not. when you told him you were going to meet yoongi at a cafe near his studio to give the man an answer - a hard no, there’s still some needling doubt in namjoon’s gaze as he reverts his eyes away from you. as though he was afraid that the illusion would fade away and he’d end up catching the smolder of passion he’d always seen you look at the man with.

he’s not lost to your feelings - in hindsight, it was pathetically obvious how smitten you were for the elder man. even your and his parents could see. and they’d foreseen many things but not having to plead and then beg and then finally, force you into a marriage you didn’t want with the brother of the man you loved.

your only regret was leaving without kissing namjoon goodbye - but it also felt like anything you said, any sort of assurance you offered would just be an act. until you tell his brother to stop.

“come to think of it,” you set the warm cup of latte down. it would have tasted better if the circumstances were different, “we never properly ended things. the only way i knew the engagement was over was through mom and dad.” his parents you meant.

he tilts his head to the side as a response - an indication that he’s listening. he’s dressed in plain white shirt and the darkest jeans. the bags under his eyes is an indication that he hasn’t slept in days - either it’s because of working late nights trying to make music or because of what he’d said to you.

you know he’d do this - detach himself from reality when things gets tough or when he’s stuck in a situation he doesn’t have control over. but you still had hope. still held onto the past seven years you’d spent together for him to regard you with enough respect to offer closure.

“do you love naeun that much?” and yet you still ask.

you meet his hollow gaze, not knowing the intensity yours hold until your fingerpads wrapped around aches and he lets out a heavy breath.

“she was different.” he says simply - almost tiredly, “she caught my eyes. we started talking and we found out we had some things in common. i thought she’s what i needed to get over you.”

“don’t.” the churning starts from your stomach and spreads across your body like a poisonous fog. “don’t use me as an excuse for leaving. you loved me as much as i loved you and you got scared.”

a lump forms in your throat as the memories, the inside jokes that built up over time, the comfortable silents spent - everything comes crashing in like tidal wave. you knew he loved you deep down. that was why the news of him getting married took a toll on you - so much so, you decided to leave everything behind and fly to paris.

“you could’ve pushed me away if you truly had no feelings for me but you kept me around and let me think we were going to have a happy future together.” his image is distorted from the prickles of tears in your eyes but you blink them away, “but you didn’t really know you were in love with me back then, huh? that’s why you got scared shitless and decided to leave.” you’re not sure if you’re choking on your words or if you’re actually scoffing. maybe both.

in that moment, you watch as yoongi’s expression switches from that signature boredom to realization and finally unbridled sorrow. he must feel suffocated - like he’s drowning in emotions the way you did in that suite you spent for two weeks in paris before you decided to buy an apartment and stay for good. and you would have if your parents didn’t call you back - recounted all their sacrifices for you to make you guilty enough to agree to the marriage with his younger brother. he’ll spend the same amount of time sleeping and waking up in his room and realizing he can’t turn back time.

“i fucked up big time, didn’t i?” he laughs dryly as he presses his palm to his face, hunched over the minute round table.

the latte is still half-full when you swipe your phone off the table and stand up. he doesn’t spare you a glance - he probably couldn’t bring himself to face you now.

‘you’re a fucking coward min yoongi.’ is what you want to say but for some reason, you leave the words to die on the tip of your tongue. you won’t - can’t wish him a happy life and propose to put everything past you. it’s not that simple and you’re not that forgiving. but namjoon’s easy smile flashes at the back of your head at this moment of all time and makes your heart clench painfully in your chest. their relationship is already strained and if you insist on prolonging this, it’s only going to end up hurting namjoon one way or another and the cycle will just keep going on with naeun getting hurt if she found out.

“you did.” your hand is trembling around the strap of your bag, “but it’s all in the past and i don’t blame you. things wouldn’t turn out the way they do otherwise. so just... live for the present, yoongi.”

his shoulders rise and fall a little faster than normal but there’s nothing you can do - and it’s better if you leave him to collect his thoughts. the censor at the door beeps as you pass through. it takes a moment for you to feel the morning air brush your cheeks and sunlight to seep into you. your chest still feels tight but in due time, you know it’ll lighten.

x

“hey, boss. you have a special guest.” hoseok peeks into namjoon’s office like the slyboots he is. the wiggle of the man’s brows before he disappears gives namjoon all the more reason to prepare for the worse.

“send them in.” he sighs, not bothering to hide his feelings in front of hoseok. they’ve been working side by side for a long time and friends for longer he knows his friend is aware of the contrasting definition of ‘special’ but this once, as he sees you walk through the door - he admits that him and hoseok may finally be of the same mind.

namjoon shoots up from his seat, clearing his throat and buttoning his blazer together the way he’s so used to doing it when he receives an unannounced visit from his father. “what brings you here?”

instead of shooting him one of your brilliant smiles, you drop your bag on the crisp white leather couch and run right into him. arms wrapped around his torso, he can smell your favorite floral shampoo from your hair but he can’t bring himself to hug you back. his heart is palpitating inside his chest and he can only pray for some miracle that you can’t hear it. which is most unlikely what with your head coming up just a few centimeters above his shoulder line and your ears being the same height as the beating organ in his chest.

if you notice, you're not saying anything about it.

“i met yoongi just now.”

namjoon doesn’t say a word for the longest time - it’s so namjoon of him not to. but it’s also not where you stand now. that day, when you partially admitted to liking namjoon and you’re pretty sure he felt the same - you’d seen a side of namjoon you never thought you’d saw. vulnerable. fearful. all because he thought he was going to lose you - and it felt like he’s always been prepared for it. it was just a matter of time.

the muscles in your arms contracts at the thought of namjoon being so ready to let you go - is it like that too, right now? is he expecting you to go back on your words and tell him you’re going to have an affair with his brother? you don’t know and that’s driving you insane. 

and just when the muscles in your arm contract, just when you’re about to pull away, namjoon’s arms band around your body and a kiss lands on top of your head.

“did you tell him what you wanted to tell him all this time?” his voice is velvet and smooth and you can hear that easy smile as he speaks.

you nod against his chest. “it’s over. i told him to get lost.”

the chest vibrates against your cheek as rings of chuckles tumble out of namjoon’s mouth. it makes your body light up with a sort of fire. and for once, you welcome the heat spreading across your cheeks like an old friend.

he knows the last part is a bluff - it’s comforting that he knows without having you say it.

does he also know...

“after that i came here because i wanted to see you.” you crane your neck to look up at him.

true enough there’s that smile and gets wider when he meets your gaze. a hand comes to rest on your neck while his thumb grazes your chin as he presses his lips to yours. you think your heart might explode at any moment now as you kiss him back, your hand snaking to his shoulder but he stops your right hand, holding it on his chest. his heart beats the same rhythm as yours. his shoulder line heaving the same way yours do when the back of your thighs hit the couch and you finally break apart. but before you have the chance to gather your thoughts, his lips are on you again. the hand on your lower back pulling you closer until your thighs press on either side of his legs.

“let’s go home now.” he murmurs between breaths, “i might really go crazy if i touch another part of your body that’s covered in clothing.”

it’s in that moment that the door swings open.

x

hoseok bursts through the door with the photostatted files in his hand. there’s a skip in his step.

“hey boss! here’s the files you asked for.”

he looks between you - well your back - and namjoon. the ceo is fixing his tie with a hard expression while you’re standing facing the ceiling-to-floor window that overlooks the streets and several stores in the area.

d-did he just walk into you two fighting?

“thanks, hoseok.” namjoon swipes the files from his hand, walking back to his seat around the desk and dropping the files with a sharp pap!

“n-no problem boss.” he takes one frightened step backwards before turning around but before he manages to escape the lion’s den, you stop him.

“hoseok wait.” it comes out a bit rushed. granted, you’re not in any position to waste time. you dropped by even though you know you can’t afford being late to work but somehow you ended up at namjoon’s office anyway. the secretary seems to physically turn into a rock before shakily turn his cheek to you with a smile.

“uh, yeah doc?”

“namjoon, do you mind me borrowing hoseok for a bit?” the heat comes on full force as you turn to namjoon. he’s burning a hole through the files he’s flipping through but you don’t miss the pinked tips of his ears and the way his adam’s apple bobs at the sound of his name on your tongue, “my shift is starting at noon so i need to be there by,” you check the watch on your wrist, “now.”

the way namjoon doesn’t even look up from flipping the papers is how hoseok know for sure you’re fighting. “sure thing. oh and hoseok, no detours. come straight back once you drop ___ off.”

but to you, it’s because he’s flustered beyond imagination - you know, like you know how he’ll condemn himself for not being able to control himself like that. your whole body heats up as you slip into the back seat when the image of namjoon’s hooded eyes, reddened cheeks and half agape lips flash at the back of his mind. a part of you - the reasonable one - chides yourself for even thinking about ditching work and actually going home with him but another part wishes to indulge in the endless possibilities of what will happen if you did.

x

“____,” your name tumbles out of namjoon’s mouth in a breathy huff. naturally so. he hasn’t even caught his breath from when he finds you crawling over him like a woman in on a mission. now, the same exact woman his cuffing his wrists and holding them over his head with one hand while the other is undoing the buttons of his shirt while she kisses him in all the right places.

“wh-where did you even get cuffs?” his headboard is one of those pristine white cushioned ones meaning there isn’t any rails for you to hook him on and keep him in place. but you don’t need that because namjoon can barely move - all that time he spends at the gym has gone down the drain as invisible threads tie him down.

“oh these?” you let one corner of your lips tug deviously. it’s been six months since you got married and you and namjoon has never gone past the occasional cuddles and light kisses. the morning after that day when you dropped by his office after meeting yoongi, namjoon had declared his intentions to ‘do it right’ - like dates and getting to know each other better before anything else. 

it was sweet of him. until you realized you barely had time for dates - only late night conversations that ended up with you on top of him but before things could progress, he’d do everything he could to avoid bedroom affairs. but over time, it gets a bit discouraging. so this is the last straw - there’s no wine or champagne for him to use as an excuse to carry you to your room. you’re both sober, and if he doesn’t want you -

“never mind where i got these.” the low sound emitting from his throat makes your heart skip a beat as your lips brush against the shell of his ear, “don’t you want me, namjoon?”

trailing hisses down his smooth jawline, you let your lips hover over his - it only lasts for a heartbeat before he closes the distance and starts kisses you like a famine beast.

“i want you,” he confesses when you pull away just to reinforce your control. he may be the one lying down with his hands bound but it almost felt like you’re the hopeless one here - almost. the  a feral glint in his eyes sends hot waves down your core - you have to tell yourself to breathe. “of course i fucking want you ___.”

you hum in contemplation - taking just enough time to sit straighter and let your fingers undo the rest of the buttons and stopping just above his belt. the few times you laid together and he lets you lie on top of him - you knew he was brains and brawn. but you didn’t expect a perfectly sculpted body of adonis himself to be lying beneath you. the ridges of his abs heaves helplessly as he drawn in deep breaths. 

somewhere on the edge of the bed where you’d tossed it, your phone vibrates - someone’s calling but that can wait.

you lean down, soft tresses brushing his skin as you kiss that spot that illicit a delicious sound from him the first time you discovered it. somewhere in the junction between his shoulder and neck.

“fuck.” his voice is raw and desperate and carnal as his body yearns for you. his legs bent at the knees, feet ground into the bed as he grinds his hip into you - the signs of his arousal painfully obvious.

you can’t help but giggle at the way he so vehemently yearn for you. somewhere on the bed, your phone starts vibrating again.

“y-your phone.” he manages to stammer out. it’s the third time it’s vibrating.

“don’t worry about it. the only people who would call me at this time is jisoo’s drunken butt dial or the hospital-” you sit back up, heat still pooling in your stomach when your hips grind against namjoon’s arousal in the process but the urgency in the way you swipe your phone off the sheets has stolen your attention.

clear as day, it is one of the two possibilities you’ve mentioned and it isn’t your quirky colleague.

x

when you first started working, you were of the ripe age and eager to help those in need. you loved your job despite the long arduous hours, missed meals and ungodly hour roll calls because at the end of the day, it was what you wanted to do - it was the one thing you wouldn’t let your parents take away from you. you fought blood sweat and tears to get where you are now.

and doctors don’t usually start a family until they’ve at least finished their residency - but you had to get married early to keep your end of the bargain. of course, you didn’t expect to commit to said marriage. you didn’t also expect to fall for namjoon either. and you certainly didn’t expect for him to still be here in the waiting area when you walked out of the emergency operating room, head lulling to the side as sleep begins to take him, arms crossed over his chest. he didn’t even get the chance to change when you hurriedly uncoffed him, informing him about an emergency at the er. he’d offered to drive you since you couldn’t drive and waiting for an uber driver to accept your request this late at night would take more time. you’d rushed out of the car with a ‘thanks, namjoon. i owe you one!’ thinking he’d go home and get some rest - there’s no telling how long these surgeries take after all.

when he leans too far to the side, his eyes flutter open softly before noticing the turquoise-clad body in his periphery.

“___, you’re done? did the surgery go alright?” he’s always had a way of saying your name. it makes your heart warm and your chest full as he stands up to close the distance between you - to cup one side of your cheek with his hand. though your delayed response may have been the reason for that.

“the surgery was a success.” you finally say, your smaller hand covering his, lips curving softly. guilt creeps up the creeks of your chest but gratitude washes it away. it wouldn’t have been very namjoon of him if he didn’t consider everything: how you’d go home once you’re done. if there’s even any uber working this late of an hour. your heart is swelling - you don’t think you can ever love him more than you do now but namjoon being namjoon, he’ll make you fall in love with him more and more until your heart is filled to the brim, “thank you, namjoon.”

and he gets it. just like that. the words that you’re saying without putting them into words because there are many ways to say it and a plethora of intrepreting it but namjoon gets it because his heart beats the same rhythm as you: i love you.

a dimpled smile curls over his lips as he places a kiss over your forehead, “should we go home?” he leans down to whisper into your ears, his tone changing dangerously, “and pick up where we left off, yeah doc?”

[jamiemackenziefraser]

All That Was Fair

Chapter 24: The Rubber Stamp

Summary: “It seemed that every time someone was at the door, Jamie was confronted with a disaster. (...) He had no desire to answer it and whatever trouble it might bring.”

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a/n: I'm hardcore procrastinating right now, so here's a next day update! This chapter picks up on the same day as the last chapter. Hope you enjoy and thanks so much for reading <3

Chapter 24: The Rubber Stamp

There was a solid knock at the door, three raps showing no particular urgency but also leaving no room for Jamie to pretend he hadn’t heard. It seemed that every time someone was at the door, Jamie was confronted with a disaster. First it had been the mailman that had resulted in Claire crying in his arms over never being able to go home, and then it was Jenny… being Jenny— twice. He worried at first that it was his sister back again to stir up even more trouble, except the knock was most certainly not his sister’s style of ringing the bell like a maniac. Still, he had no desire to answer it and whatever trouble it might bring. He wanted to stay wrapped up in his fantasy with his faerie forever. 

At the sound outside the door, Claire jerked her head up from where it had been laid on his shoulder. They were having a lazy Sunday afternoon, sitting on the couch in quiet companionship after having finished up their chapter of Lord of the Rings. Claire had been just slightly dozing at his side when the sound disturbed their peace. 

“Dinna fash,” he said quietly as she shifted a bit so he could stand, “stay here.”

As he made his way to the entryway, he could sense his stubborn faerie getting up and following behind him. He stopped in front of the big oak door and Claire pressed herself behind him. He shot a glance over his shoulder to see her peeking curiously around his side. 

“Sassenach,” he said patiently, “why dinna ye go wait in the other room?” 

She shook her head stubbornly.  

Jamie rolled her eyes and decided not to argue with her. (He was beginning to miss the early days of easy compliance— not that he wanted her to be as timid as she used to be, he just should have enjoyed telling her what to do while he’d had the chance). She seemed content enough to mostly hide herself behind him, so maybe she wouldn’t be visible to whoever was at the door. 

He unlocked it and pulled it open a crack. 

Outside stood none other than his Godfather, Murtagh Fitzgibbons, looking particularly dour under his bushy beard. As soon as the man caught sight of Jamie, he grumbled, “took ye long enough.”

“Murtagh!” Jamie exclaimed, feeling the rush of fondness he always did at the sight of his godfather, “what are you doin’ here?” 

The only thing lacking from the expression on Murtagh’s face was an eye-roll. “Care tae explain why yer sister is bletherin’ on in my ear every day and night for the past week about how her brother has taken up wi’ a trollop and gone off the deep end? Mind,” he shot a look to the side of Jamie that made his eyes go wide, and Jamie felt a sinking feeling in his gut that his godfather had caught sight of Claire peeking around him, “I wouldna have been inclined tae believe her if not for the fact that I havna heard from ye. And now I see… ye do have... company.” 

Murtagh gave a nod at Jamie’s side, where he knew Claire must have been showing herself. 

Jamie let out a sigh and gave into the urge to check behind him. Claire had drifted forward and was hovering at his side, looking out the cracked door with huge doe eyes. 

“This is Murtagh, your…?” she spoke up, addressing Jamie. 

“Aye, my Godfather,” Jamie said, reluctantly accepting the unplanned meeting, “well I suppose introductions are in order. Murtagh, this is Claire.” 

“Hello, lass,” Murtagh said, politely enough. He held out his hand, saying “so you’re…” 

“The trollop,” she answered, completely innocently. 

Jamie had to bite down a laugh. The lass didna even ken the meaning of that word…

Murtagh’s eyes went wide, and he looked rightfully embarrassed. “I didna mean… I—” 

Claire still hadn’t taken his hand (yet another human custom she didn’t know— Jamie had to remind himself to teach her that one), and Murtagh glanced down at his proffered appendage, then back up at Claire. Assuming she was too offended by his earlier statement to shake his hand, he dropped it back to his side. 

Jamie decided to try to ease the situation and offered, “why dinna ye come inside?” 

Murtagh made a sound of assent deep in his throat and stepped inside the door. Just as Claire started to turn toward the living room, Jamie suddenly remembered that she was wearing the low cut dress— the one that so prettily displayed her wings. He threw himself behind her just in time to use his bulk to prevent Murtagh from seeing her exposed wings. With urgency, he grabbed Claire’s arms in front of him and pulled her against him so her back was pressed to his front, safely hiding the wings from view. 

He herded her toward the living room, pushing her so fast that she nearly stumbled. But they needed to get there before Murtagh so he’d have time to rip off his jacket and give it to her. 

Sure enough, Murtagh was ambling lazily enough, so the second they were in the living room, Jamie whirled her around so her front was facing the entryway and then let go of her to tear off his jacket. He swung it around her shoulders just in the nick of time before Murtagh arrived. 

Trying to disguise what he’d been doing, Jamie pulled Claire close and draped an arm around her, feigning nonchalance as best as he could. Meanwhile, Claire was clutching Jamie’s jacket closed in front of her, holding on with a white-knuckled grip. 

“Murtagh,” he said, trying to get his brain to catch back up to the situation, “I’m glad ye’re here, truly. Now ye can officially meet my girlfriend.” 

To Murtagh’s credit, his eyes only went wide in shocked disbelief for a second before he managed a polite, “nice tae meet ye, lass” for Jamie’s now-claimed girlfriend. 

“Why dinna ye have a seat?” Jamie suggested, gesturing toward a chair. 

In the meantime, Jamie brought Claire with him over toward the couch. On the way, Claire reached up on her toes to whisper softly in his ear, “is it okay to hold your hand?” 

He looked down at him, confused for a second to see her anxious expression, before he remembered their conversation about PDA and how it’d been inappropriate in front of Jenny. Jamie nearly had to laugh at her earnestness to do right by his customs. 

“Yes, lass,” he whispered discreetly as they sat down together, “as long as ye dinna sit on my lap this time.” 

Claire seemed greatly relieved by this, and as soon as they were seated, she reached out to lace their fingers together. She held on more tightly than normal, and Jamie gave her a squeeze, trying to reassure her that Murtagh was not, in fact, like Jenny, and she didn’t have to worry. 

Jamie was rather worried himself though. Murtagh had been like a father to him ever since his own had passed a few years back; his opinion about Claire (who he hoped he’d spend the rest of his life with, God willing) meant a lot to him. He could only hope that Jenny’s sour words hadn’t already cemented Murtagh’s opinion. 

Naturally, Murtagh began with questions that Jamie had a hard time answering. 

“So, when did ye two…” he fumbled. It was unlike Murtagh to waver so indirectly, but it was clear what he was asking. 

The next few minutes were spent feeding him the fake backstory Jamie had concocted. As he’d explained to Jenny, Jamie said that he’d met Claire at university in Paris and they’d kept in touch. When she’d come to visit, they’d reconnected. Claire extended her trip, and they both realized they’d been in love all this time. 

Murtagh seemed to take it mostly in stride, nodding politely but keeping his expression neutral. Jamie had no idea what was going on underneath that impenetrable beard of his, and it worried him to no end. 

“So, lass,” Murtagh said, sounding conversational, “let’s hear from you. How do ye feel about our Jamie, then?” 

Jamie’s head whipped to her, and found she was smiling nearly ear to ear. “I love him,” she answered without hesitation, “I think he’s the most amazing man I’ve ever met.” Her voice was fond and sincere, and she looked up at Jamie with a smile, as if she couldn’t keep her eyes off him. “I think he’s kind, and giving, and thoughtful, and intelligent. And so much more than that. And I think I’m so lucky to be here with him.”

His heart clenched nearly painfully in his chest, and it took all his self control to keep from kissing her, or from breaking into tears. God, he loved her. 

Forgetting Murtagh for a second, he grew lost in her warm gaze, that honey look like a caress on his skin. 

“I think I’m the lucky one,” he said softly.

Murtagh cleared his throat pointedly, breaking the moment, but when Jamie looked away from Claire and back toward his godfather, there was none of the animosity in his eyes that there’d been in Jenny’s. His grump of a surrogate father just held his usual “why are you subjecting me to the nonsense” kind of expression. 

Just as Jamie was about to open his mouth, floundering for something to say, Adso came prancing into the room, looking distinguished and ready to grab the attention. He was quite successful, too, because the non-existent conversation ground to a halt. 

“Adso!” Claire cooed, as she always did when the cat approached. 

The cheetie meowed back at her in greeting, and Claire’s face softened ever-further. She always got this sweet expression on her face around Adso, like the look of a loving caretaker. Jamie couldn’t help but wonder whether she’d wear the same expression with their kids… if they could even have kids… 

His gut clenched for a second in uncertainty, thinking about the very real possibility that they couldn’t actually procreate. Jamie knew they would have to talk about it someday, but he was terrified of hearing that his dream of having children was an impossible one. He could manage without a big family— all he really needed was her— but he’d prefer to live in hopeful ignorance for a short while longer, imaging bairns running around with her whiskey eyes and his red hair.  

When Jamie managed to drag himself back to reality, he saw that Claire had repositioned herself to sit on the floor, and Adso was already settled in her lap, purring away. 

His faerie looked up at Murtagh. “Do you like cheeties, Murtagh?” she asked, looking the picture of innocent enthusiasm. 

Murtagh— the hard man that he was and usually so unshakeable— looked taken aback at the question. 

“I canna say I have a strong opinion on the matter,” Murtagh answered. 

“Oh, well I love them. I’d never met a cheetie before Adso, but I’m sure he must be the nicest there is,” Claire said simply. Jamie had to clench his jaw, finding her incredibly endearing but infuriating at the same time. She was drifting carelessly into dangerous territory….

“Never ‘met’ a cheetie, meanin' ye’d never had one or…” Murtagh was looking dubious, and Jamie’s heart beat faster, his muscles coiling as if he could face the threat of Murtagh’s suspicions physically. 

“No,” Claire said, and Jamie had to hide a grimace, knowing exactly where she was going. She was always so honest, his faerie. “I mean I’d never seen one.” 

Murtagh’s brows drew together as he squinted down at her. “Where did ye say ye were from again?” He asked, not unreasonably. 

“A verrra small rural town near Oxfordshire,” Jamie jumped in hastily, for fear that Claire would forget herself. She seemed to be going off the rails, there was no telling what she would say, even knowing as she did that she shouldn’t say anything to give her secret away. 

Claire, still sitting cross legged and stroking the cat, gave a nod of affirmation. 

Murtagh’s only response was a grunt, followed by silence. Ever a man of few words, he didn’t seem inclined to further the conversation himself. 

Unfortunately, that meant that Claire, in her eagerness to get to know him, was jumping confidently back into the conversation. “So, Murtagh,” she said, “what do you do?” 

Alright, good. That’s a relatively normal question. Good, lass. 

“Construction hereabouts,” Murtagh replied, seeming less than interested in the small talk. 

Claire’s eyes widened, and she put on an excited face that Jamie thought was very genuine. 

“Building? That’s lovely! What do you build?” 

While Claire likely meant the question quite literally, having no idea what the job of construction entailed, Murtagh thankfully took it at face value. 

“Mostly residential. Many of the houses ye see hereabouts are our work,” Murtagh said, a hint of pride showing from beneath his busy beard. 

“Ohh…” Claire said, probably sounding a little too awed for the occasion, but it was sweet nonetheless, “so you build places like this? How—”

Jamie, sensing that she was about to question how one goes about building a house, tried to avert disaster by quickly cutting in before she could finish her strange question. “Claire, mo ghraidh, would you mind grabbing me a glass of water?” 

Claire shot a sweet, indulgent look at him from over her shoulder and gave a nod. “Of course, Jamie.” She unceremoniously dumped the cat from her lap as she stood, and she gave a polite nod to Murtagh, saying, “sorry for leaving the conversation, I’ll be right back.” 

As she left the room for the safety of the kitchen, Jamie felt his heart rate drop back to normal rhythms. 

Just as quickly though, it was ratcheted back up when Murtagh gave him a long look and commented, “She’s a wee bit… strange, isn’t she?” 

Trying not to break out into nervous sweats, Jamie reminded himself that there were strange humans too, and nothing Claire had said had been that bad. 

“Aye, a bit. But I love her for it,” he said honestly, throwing a look into the kitchen where Claire was currently studying the sink closely as she tried to recall how to turn it on. Jamie sent her good luck and tried not to smile to himself. They’d worked the sink together before, but she never really had a reason to use it on her own. Jamie was often around to turn it on for her after she’d been gardening and needed to clean up. He made a mental note to stop enabling her lack of human skills. 

Murtagh was staring at him in the meanwhile, looking lost in thought and careful evaluation. Meeting those dark eyes, Jamie found himself feeling nervous over what was going on in the impenetrable head of his godfather. 

“Ye’re sure about her?” came the question. 

All Jamie managed to get out was an “aye,” before Claire was returning to the room, looking triumphant with a full glass of water in her hand. 

The next few minutes were spent catching Murtagh up on the happenings at Jamie’s publishing company, which thankfully did not involve a grilling on why Jamie had been taking so much time off. Claire was quiet during the conversation, but feigned engagement well, looking invested in Jamie’s words in a way that made his stomach warm. The sweet lass truly knew nothing about his work, but apparently loving him was enough to make her love hearing about his passions. 

Then, at a break in the conversation, Murtagh stood up, wiping his hands on his pants. 

“I’m sorry to cut the visit short,” he said abruptly, “but I hafta be somewhere, I canna stay much longer. I jes’ wanted tae drop by and check on ye, lad.” 

Taking Claire’s hand, Jamie stood as well, bringing her with him. Murtagh’s eyes fixed on Claire. 

“Can I have a moment tae speak wi’ Jamie alone before I go?” he asked her once they were all standing. 

“Of course,” she said graciously, “it was so nice to meet you, Murtagh.” 

She shot a quick glance at Jamie over her shoulder and, at his nod, gave one last smile to Murtagh— who gave a soft “you too, lass”— before leaving the room. Alone with Murtagh, Jamie’s heart began to race, wondering if he was about to face the “are ye daft?” intervention talk. 

Murtagh approached him, clapping a hand on his shoulder and walking him toward the door. When they reached the entryway, both of them stopped, and his godfather looked at him for a long second. 

Jamie braced himself, trying to be strong for the moment Murtagh expressed disapproval. He could handle it. The world could hang, all he needed was Claire— he tried to tell himself despite the rising anxiety in his chest. 

Murtagh’s stare didn’t break, his usual dour expression holding fast on his face. His bushy brows were low over his unreadable eyes, but there seemed to be a clenching in his jaw that was unusual for the hard man. 

“What do ye think of her?” Jamie finally burst out, trying to bite the bullet he knew was coming. 

Murtagh gave a sigh, his shoulders sagging slightly. “Ye love her?” he asked simply. 

Jamie nodded immediately and answered without hesitation. “I do.” 

His godfather looked away, his eyes lifting toward the heavens. 

This was it, the moment when Jamie would receive a famous Murtagh tongue lashing for his idiocy…

“Your mother…” Murtagh started, very slowly. 

‘Would have disapproved’… please don’t say those heartbreaking words…

“Had the sweetest smile,” Murtagh said instead. He looked back up at Jamie, his eyes softer than he’d seen in years, “Would warm a man to the backbone jes’ to see it...” He gave himself a nod, as if reminding himself of the conviction of his next words, “Claire’s smile is jes’ as sweet.” 

Jamie’s world suddenly fell entirely into place as Murtagh finally met his eyes, his godfather’s lips turning up into as much of a smile as the man ever gave. 

Approval. Unspoken between them, but clear and plain as day. Murtagh gave another nod, now trying to smother the uncharacteristic smile on his face. Jamie’s excitement must have been showing plain. 

“I can see it when ye look at each other, ken,” Murtagh said, clearing his throat a little, “ye love her, and she loves you.” 

“Aye,” Jamie choked out, trying desperately not to fall to pieces in front of his godfather. 

“I’m happy for ye, lad,” Murtagh finished. He placed a slap on Jamie’s shoulder. 

Jamie gave a nod of acknowledgement, pouring all his gratitude into it, and he smiled so emotionally that his lips turned downward. Together, they walked toward the front door, and Jamie opened it for him. 

“It was good to see ye, a ghoistidh,” Jamie said quietly. 

“And ye, lad,” Murtagh answered. 

Another moment passed between them, short but just as meaningful, and as soon as it had happened, Murtagh turned on his heel and walked out, with no more of a goodbye needed. 

Closing the door behind him, Jamie was nearly bursting with joy. Quick as he could, he rushed through the room until he found Claire lingering in the kitchen. 

“Sassenach,” he said, trying to keep his voice from trembling. 

She turned toward him and had just enough time to raise her arms before he was embracing her, nearly overcome by emotion. He was so happy he was nearly shaking, and he hugged her tightly to him, squeezing her close. 

“He likes you,” Jamie said, his voice nearly breaking as he spoke into her hair, “He approves of us.” He took another shaky breath before repeating, “He approves.” 

***

a/n: I’m really curious if anyone reads on tumblr rather than AO3, so if you made it down here, would you drop me a comment? For research purposes? Thanks so much for reading, loves, however you choose to do it :) 

Next

[2996-sana]

Not the Jealous Type - Rosé

Rosé prided herself in being levelheaded and not of the jealous kind when it came to you. I mean, not really. You did. It started with your coworker, Tzuyu, who had taken quite a liking towards you in the beginning of last year which coincidentally was around the time you and Rosé started seeing each other. You weren’t tooting your own horn. Tzuyu really did fancy you. She said so herself, albeit drunkenly, during a late-night drinking session with your officemates, coincidentally again two nights after you made it official with Rosé. Rosé wasn’t stupid nor was she blind. She knew the first time she saw Tzuyu that the girl was practically head over heels for you, but it was two weeks in into a blossoming potential relationship when she realized and the last thing she wanted was to scare you off by being a possessive not-yet-girlfriend. So, she tucked that little piece of observation for next time and focused on you instead.

When she came over two nights after you finally asked her to be her girlfriend, you broke the news. The first thing on Rosé’s mind was, I knew it! which immediately turned to, I swear if she tries anything, I will not hesitate to break her bones and rui-

“Rosie?” you questioned, breaking her out of her jealousy induced trance. You were tilting your head in that cute little way that you always do when you were feeling uncertain and she felt the fires of jealousy and annoyance in her body simmering down. “Your forehead is all scrunched up and you’re pouting. Are you bothered by it? I’ll stay away from her if you feel uncomfortable.”

For the past few months, Rosé realized that she has never acted out on her jealousy, choosing to bottle it up. It worked out just fine and she avoided fights and confrontations that would’ve came with it. So obviously, it worked out just fine. At least thats what she was trying to convince herself. Why should she start acting on it now? She trusted you and that was what matters.

Rosé quickly composed herself and mustered up the most genuine smile she could in the moment, “Me? Bothered by her? Baby, not in a million years!” she scoffed, puffing out her chest. “You see, I’m really not the jealous type and I trust you.”

For a moment, she thought you saw right through her façade. With the way that you stared up at her all confused, she thought the words ‘I am actually seething with anger and jealousy right now’ magically made its way to her forehead. Instead, you broke out into that cute smile of yours and leaned forward to press a lingering kiss on her temple.

“If you say so, angel.”

In the next few months that followed, Rosé wasn’t sure her resolve was as strong as she thought it was. After that night, you and Tzuyu called a truce. You informed Tzuyu that you were happily in a relationship but you would like for things not to get awkward and for you and her to stay friends. Tzuyu obviously loved the idea, thinking that if she couldn’t have you as a girlfriend, she could at least keep you in her life as a friend.

So, if friendship was the agreement, why was it that Tzuyu jumped at every opportunity to make a move on you? All the while, Rosé had to act like the model girlfriend who never got jealous and stayed calm and collected. Why did she have to brag about not being the jealous type?

“Wow, you’re so chill about this,” you would always say. Rosé wanted to laugh. She deserved at least an Oscar nomination.

“Y/N, your phone has been buzzing nonstop!” Rosé groaned, pulling away from your lips, annoyed that she had to stop making out with you. “Who the fuck would text at 2 fucking am. Unbelie-” she narrowed her eyes at the contact name of the culprit and removed herself from your lap.

“What’s up, Rosie posie? Who is it?” you mused.

You saw Rosé battle with about a hundred emotions: confusion, anger, annoyance – before you could make out a lame attempt at a smile. She pushed your phone towards you.

“It’s Tzuyu,” she said through clenched teeth, trying to control her frustration, “she wants you to know that she found a super adorable picture of a fucking cat on Twitter.”

You raised your eyebrows at the hostile tone in your girlfriend’s voice before turning to her smugly, “Does that bother you, babe?”

“No!” Rosé didn’t miss a beat, her pride and ego taking a hit. “Why would I be? I don’t get jealous.”

“Hmm, alright then.” you giggled. You took your phone from her grasp and unlocked it, clicking the Messages app and reading Tzuyu’s texts.

Her last one read,

Tzuyu: oh n btw my friends have a small gig at the café this saturday. u up for it? hehe we never hang out anymore with just the two of us:(

You could feel Rosé looking over your shoulder, breathing down on your neck.

Rosé felt her blood rise once she processed what Tzuyu was implying. As far as she knew, Tzuyu has never invited you out before. The girl was getting too brave and it took all of Rosé’s self-control not to scream and make her way to Tzuyu’s house and set it on fire.

You turned to face her, feigning confusion and pretending to think about it. You had a small smile on your face as you stared at your girlfriend’s increasingly red face, and you really didn’t think it was a blush Rosé was sporting.

Rose scoffed, “You clearly want to go so just do it. Have fun or whatever.” she started picking at her nails and refused to look your way and you could tell you finally got her where you wanted her.

For the almost two years that you’ve been together, you grew amused at your girlfriend’s attempt to mask her jealousy. She would always act like Tzuyu’s (failed) advances didn’t faze her but you’ve caught her numerous times mumbling curses and words that were far from friendly under her breath when she thought you weren’t paying attention. Props to Rosé and her stubbornness to admit defeat but she really wasn’t as good an actress as she thought she was. It also didn’t help Rosé to have best friends like Jennie, Jisoo, and Lisa who snitched on her anytime they could but you decided to let your girlfriend live in her fantasy world and kept quiet about it. Plus, it was fun to see Rosé silently squirm. At this point, you were just waiting for her to break and it seemed like the time has finally come for Rosé to draw the line.

“Someone is a bit jealous,” you teased, pinching her cheeks.

Rosé slapped your hand away and gave you her most menacing glare, “Shut up!”

“You’re not denying it then?”

“Well, maybe if she wasn’t so set on stealing you away from me, I wouldn’t need to be jealous,” Rosé grumbled, crossing her arms. Bingo.

At her admission, you try to hide the smile forcing its way into your face.

“Stop! Stop looking at me like that,” your girlfriend whined. The smile on your face drops as you notice tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

You immediately sprung into action and cradled her, “Shit, baby, what’s wrong?”

Tears started to soak your hoodie as you hear your girlfriend’s sniffles.

“Rosie, talk to me,” you pleaded. Seeing your girlfriend cry was not on the agenda of Operation Make Rosie Admit She’s Actually Jealous and it just made you upset that it had come to this. “I’m so sorry, babe.”

“Don’t be fooled,” she silently growled. “These are tears of anger.”

“What?”

“I hate her!” she snarled, wrapping her arms around your waist. “She better fucking stop or on god I’m gonna start swinging!”

You laughed at your girlfriend who was clinging onto you for dear life. You decide to let her have her moment because you knew she had a lot of pent up anger towards the situation, so you spent half an hour listening to her curse and threaten anyone who would dare try to make a move.

By the end of her rant, she was out of breath.

“How does it feel to finally let it out?” you snickered.

She only tightened her hold around you, “Pretty rude of you not to tell me you knew, by the way. But I feel so much better now that I get to tell you that if you even try to entertain other girls, I will end you and her.” she sighed in relief, “God, it feels so good to finally bitch about it.”

You roughly grab her jaw and started kissing her neck, “That was hot.”

She tilted her neck to give you more access and started playing with the hair on the nape of your neck, “If I knew coming clean would end like this, I would’ve done it a long time ago.”

“Wait,” she pulled back, looking you straight in the eyes. “You know its all because I love you right? I don’t want to lose you.”

You pressed your foreheads together and smiled, “It’s me and you against the world forever, Rosie.”

[the-cat-at-the-theatre-door]

WIP/Unfinished Ficlet

"Will you still love me," Skimbleshanks had asked, leaning over his shoulder one winter afternoon. "When I'm as ancient as you are?"

Asparagus rolled his eyes, but did not look up from his book. Here they went again.

"You won't be here to find out if you go on," he replied dryly. "I may throttle you first."

Asparagus felt the huff of laughter on the side of his neck as the other tom clung to his back - which was good. The following silence indicated a gloomy drifting back into his own thoughts - which was, decidedly, not as good.

Asparagus supposed he should be insulted at the insinuation, but he wasn't. Not really. The question was a ridiculous one, certainly, but coming from the same place as the rest of his mate's recent odd behaviour. This had been their topic of conversation for weeks now, all leading up to the dreaded upcoming February morning. The railway cat was to celebrate his - what was the charming expression the humans used? Golden name day? (or perhaps that was for anniversaries; dreadfully hard to keep those straight) - though thus far, it had been anything but precious, and to say that he was displeased with this fact would be an understatement. They couldn’t even say the number (5-0) without a fuss being made, let alone apply it to anything. Skimbleshanks, dynamic and vibrant as he was, saw the day as one of impending doom rather than something celebratory. Which meant, of course, this sense of doom had spread thoroughly throughout the household. Several times over.

A midlife crisis had already been steadily brewing on the horizon as it were; this was just the tipping point. The nail in the coffin, so to speak (though Asparagus hesitated to associate coffins anywhere near this particular issue). Having known the other tom for as long as he had, however, Asparagus wouldn't call it a midlife crisis so much as Skimbleshanks' own peculiar combination of melodrama and genuine dread. Midlife catastrophe, perhaps. 

The railway cat had nearly had an aneurism when he discovered his first grey hair amidst his headfur (a day Asparagus remembered vividly, as he was the one to pluck it out at Skimble's flustered request), and a heart attack to boot when Jenny had responded innocently to a remark concerning his slowly dwindling energy reserve with a cheery: "It happens to all of us, dear. Welcome to the club." Even Jellylorum's gentle reminders that he needed to start warming up before diving into the fray - that he needed to be careful when hoisting the kittens up like that - that his knees wouldn't be nearly as forgiving as they once were should he land wrong - had put such a look on his face, you would have thought she'd slapped him.

Having been raised as he was, Asparagus was used to dramatics, but this was approaching something else entirely. Sometimes, though he’d never say it out loud, he swore he had three children to mind rather than two.

"Besides," he eventually continued, snapping his book shut on its folded corner and gently knocking it against the other tom's head to bring him back to attention. "I'm only three years older than you are, you pest." 

"Yes, I know," Skimbleshanks pouted, rubbing at the sore spot between his ears.

"And you know," he went on patiently. "That means that as you get older, so will I, and the point of comparison will shift."

"I know, I know, but you were born old, dear," Skimbleshanks explained, tilting his chin down, no doubt preparing for another knock. Cheeky little... He lowered his voice, as though to share a secret. "I don't think you've changed since I first laid eyes on you."

Asparagus looked back at him finally, removing his glasses, eyebrows raised. He debated whether that were meant to be a compliment. With Skimbleshanks, sometimes it was hard to tell. "I'll have you know I was at least slightly less grey then, thank you."

Skimbleshanks hummed, obviously enjoying himself. "But only slightly."

Asparagus scoffed, feigning a wounded pride. "You're very cruel, you know that?"

"Terribly so," the other tom muttered, pressing his cheek back against his neck as they readjusted. 

The two fell quiet once again, but the silence remained heavy and melancholy. Obviously the banter had done little to lighten his mood.

"Are you saying," Asparagus tried again to adjust the perspective, leaning his head back. "You stopped loving me when I got older? That you don't still love me now? Because this is quite the way to tell me."

"Of course not!" Skimbleshanks retorted, hugging him tighter. Asparagus winced at the reflexive claws that dug into one shoulder. "Don't be daft."

"Then I must ask why you would assume it'd be different on my end. Must have been something I said.” Asparagus tapped a paw carefully on his book cover as he considered. “Or something I didn't, perhaps?"

The ginger tom made an uncertain sound in his throat, but offered nothing further.

Hmm. 

"What would you like me to say instead?" Asparagus sighed, pushing his book away and turning fully towards the other tom. Skimbleshanks looked strangely perturbed for a moment at the loss of contact, slowly lowering his paws into his lap. He tilted his head down and shrugged.

"Perhaps: I will still love you even when every hair on your head has gone white, and your spine has curved down, and your whiskers start to sag, and you can't see an inch past your nose, and all of those quaint nothings?" Asparagus remained serious, but kept his tone decidedly light. A small smile twitched at the corner of Skimbleshanks' muzzle as he mulled this over.

"When every hair has gone white, eh?"

"Every single one." 

"And what about," Skimbleshanks asked, wringing his paws. "When I can't do what I could before?"

He was getting warmer. "Even more - and then some," Asparagus answered firmly. "You will still be doing more than I can, that I will assure you of."

Asparagus thought a moment more, studying his mate's downtrodden expression before continuing.

"Or perhaps I should be more direct: if you ever thought, even for a second, I am so shallow that I would ever abandon you as you got older, then I have obviously not used those nothings enough." 

Skimbleshanks remained quiet, but the twitch of his ears indicated he was listening intently. 

Asparagus did admittedly feel a twinge at that - he wasn't nearly as verbal with his affection as perhaps he should be. It had never been in him for the level of theatrics his father boasted, or even the confident and persistent assurities that Jelly did. He was quiet and plain, just as he'd always been, tripping over his words, preferring their quality time with one another beyond all else. Skimble had never seemed to mind before, citing his bashful reservation as "charming" (the dear), but perhaps it had finally gotten to him after all. It can't have helped. 

"I can't quite fix that one, can I? Not saying those enough?" Asparagus said quietly, reaching to place a paw on his knee. “I’m sorry.”

The silence stretched between them once again, but this time, it had changed. Minutely - but it had changed. He watched his mate’s tail swish with agitation, his mouth open, then close again. He flexed the hold of his paw on his leg when both of Skimble’s had reached to press it more firmly against the bone. Asparagus liked to think, after all this time, he had somewhat of a handle on what his mate was thinking and feeling - or at least in what direction he was headed when the wheels started turning. There was something trapped just behind Skimble’s teeth, he just needed a prompt.

Asparagus was beginning to connect the dots, slowly but surely.

"This isn't really about how I feel at all, is it?"

“Not exactly...I don’t think...no,” the other tom murmured at last. “Not really.”

Lukewarm on that one, but they were getting there. Asparagus stared at the top of the ginger tom’s head. He looked like a scolded kitten. Funny he should end up on this side of it, though perhaps he wouldn’t think so.

“Can you look at me, please?” he asked gently, glancing again at the tail swishing out of the corner of his eye.

Skimbleshanks complied, exhaling and looking up at him. There it was. That was the ticket.

“You’re afraid.” Direct. Matter-of-fact. The way the railway cat had always preferred. 

Skimbleshanks’ muzzle twisted, as though he were about to deny it, but the way his posture softened spoke volumes.

“Of what, dear?” Asparagus knew very well of what, but the why was still just beyond his grasp.

“I just...oh…” Skimbleshanks bit the inside of his lip as he searched for the words. When he found them, it was as though a floodgate had opened. “I can’t stand it, Asparagus, I can’t stand it. What am I to do? I can’t even stand the thought of...of not being needed anymore. Not being wanted. Not being…”

“Not being…?”

“Not being me anymore.”

[writeofmind]

traitor!!

Genre: fluff!

Pairing: Rosé x Reader

Type: Scenario

@vagabondalchemist: Hello! I just found your blog. Ehee! Can I request for a jealous gf!rosé where reader visited their dorm and promised some quality hang-out and cuddle time with chaeng but unintentionally ignores her because of lisa ( cockblocking lol XD ) and her four cats. Thank you in advance, author-nim! :)

A/N: I completely see this happening bc Lisa just seems like such a fun person that you’d get distracted, and rosé would absolutely hate it LOL. enjoy!

-

rosé💓: You’re still coming over, right? 🥺

You glanced over at your phone that rested on your desk, laughing at the message that popped up on your phone. That was the third time she’s asked in the span of 2 hours.

you: yes, chae. 😂 i promise i’ll be there right after work!

rosé💓: okay. sorry i keep asking, i just miss you 🥺🥺

A smile crossed your face. You loved that even after being together for a while, Rosé was still just as loving as she was when you first began dating.

you: don’t be sorry baby, i miss you too!! i’ll see you in a bit :)

rosé💓: and you promise we’ll have our cuddle time?? last time, we both fell asleep and didn’t even watch the show!

you: hey, you fell asleep first! i promise, we will. lol, i’ll see you soon, chae <3

Locking your phone and putting it away, you continued working, now with a little bounce in your step from the excitement of seeing your girlfriend later.

-

When you pulled up to your girlfriend’s dorm, you were sure that she was peeking out of the window waiting for you because she hardly let you get out of the car before bursting out the front door, running to jump into a hug.

“Jesus, Chae!” you laughed as she wrapped her arms and legs around your body, “You scared me!”

Rosé only let out excited squeals that sounded oddly similar to a dolphin. You squeezed her back, all while carrying the giant baby back through the front door where the rest of her members sat in front of the T.V.

“Hey, y/n!” Lisa called out.

“Liiiissssaaaaaa!” You jumped (still holding Rosé, mind you), and the two of you began high fiving and slapping each other as if you haven’t seen each other in months.

Jennie and Jisoo were already rolling their eyes and laughing at you two. They called out and waved to you as well, and you went over to hug them when Rosé finally climbed down from you.

“Rosie has not stopped talking about you coming over tonight,” Jennie pointed to your girlfriend, who blushed, “she’s literally so excited.”

You laughed and kissed the back of Rosé’s hand as you sat back on the couch. “I can only imagine. She was texting me all day, too. But I can’t blame her, I was excited too!”

“We’ll let you guys use the T.V, so we’ll talk later!” Jisoo waved and grabbed her snacks that laid across the table, “We made food earlier, y/n, so eat if you haven’t yet.”

You thanked the girls as they all left the living room and went into their rooms. Now, you turned to Rosé with a wide smile, seeing her already staring at you with stars in her eyes. 

“Hi, baby,” you laughed, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too!” She jumped back into your arms again, “I’m so glad I get to see you today.”

Rosé happily put on a movie for the two of you, and as you guys cuddled and planted soft kisses on each other’s foreheads, she hummed. You guys haven’t seen each other in a couple weeks due to her prepping for the girl’s comeback, and she seemed like she needed a break from the cameras and the work.

“You look so pretty in your teasers, babe,” you pinched her cheeks, “I almost couldn’t tell it was you, you looked so scary!”

Rosé giggled in your hands, and you swore you could’ve turned to putty in that moment. She burrowed herself into your neck, sighing contently at just you being there with her. Just as you turned to look at her, you both leaned in, and—

“Yo! Y/n! Chaeyoung!” Lisa suddenly came bolting from her room with her cat hanging from her hands, “Do you see this?!”

Rosé jumped out of your hold (leaving you with half-puckered lips) and looked at Lisa in surprise. “What’s wrong!?”

“Look! Does Leo seem fat to you?”

You stared at Lisa in disbelief before doubling over in laughter. She stood there with Leo dangling from her hold, looking a little irritated as she did so.

“Lisa, no. What makes you say that?” Rosé raised an eyebrow at the younger girl.

Lisa huffed. “Literally everyone keeps saying he looks fat. He doesn’t, right?”

Leo wiggled out of Lisa’s grasp and hopped along the floor until he landed in your lap. You smiled at him and began to scratch behind his ears, chuckling at his purrs. “No, I don’t think he looks fat. It’s just his fur.” You poked around Leo’s stomach, “I’m sure people just say that because they know you’ll reply to them.”

Lisa groaned and walked over to where you and Rosé were. “Ugh, I guess so. I wish they wouldn’t.”

Before you knew it, three other cats managed to bolt their way out of Lisa’s room and right over to the living room.

“Lisa, your cats!!” Rosé laughed and pointed at them jumping around the couches, “Your door!”

“Oops! Sorry, guys!”

You laughed as the cats climbed all around you. “It’s fine, Lis, they seem like they haven’t had space to run around all day,” you scratched Luca’s chin (who was now on your shoulder). You didn’t catch Rosé’s squinted eyes at the side of your head.

“Yeah, they’ve pretty much been inside my room all day. I haven’t gone anywhere, really,” Lisa sat on the couch now, sandwiching Rosé in the middle, and let her cat settle on her lap. Rosé’s eyes squinted even more, unknown to the two of you on her side.

Before long, you and Lisa were going on and on about some new video game that was in the works for release, all while Rosé sat back on the couch with crossed arms. You and Lisa were always able to go on such long and meaningless rants, and the girls were pretty sure that’s why you got along so well.

A couple hours passed and the movie continued to play, forgotten in the background. When you leaned forward to ask Lisa something regarding her piercings for the comeback, you could feel an icy glare at the back of your head.

You didn’t dare turn around, terrified at what you might see. Instead, you let your eyes slowly follow the glare, until you met eyes with your girlfriend, who looked eerily similar to an overpowered anime villain. The pure look of irritation on her face sent chills down your spine, and was that a black cloud surrounding her?! You let your eyes wander slowly back to Lisa, who was still happily chatting and playing with her cats.

You sat frozen in your spot but still nodded along and carried on you and Lisa’s conversation, all until Lisa’s phone began to ring in her room.

“Oh, sorry guys, I’ll go answer that. I didn’t mean to hold you up!” Lisa stood and began herding her cats to her room, “I’ll leave you two now. Have fun!” She waved and gave a warm smile. You waved her off and sat straight up on the couch.

When you turned to look at your girlfriend, her eyes were glued to you, eyebrows furrowed and arms and legs crossed. You gave her a weak smile and moved closer to her.

“Heyyy, babe...” You reached out for her but was only met with the same cold eyes.

“Don’t touch me.” Rosé turned her head from you and stuck her head up. Guilt suddenly overcame you, and you shrunk into the cushions.

“Sorry, baby,” you pleaded and scooted closer (she scooted further away), “I didn’t even realize we talk so much...”

Rosé raised an eyebrow at you. You could already hear her voice: “How could you not realize??” You felt tiny under her gaze, and felt yourself shrinking into a tiny ball of shame.

“You’re a TRAITOR.” Rosé huffed, turned her entire body away from you (a sign that she was REALLY angry), and only gave you small glances over her shoulder.

“Noooooo!” You threw your hands up in defeat and wrapped your arms around her to pull her into your lap, “I’m soooorrryyyy!”

Rosé struggled to get out of your grasp, but you squeezed her tightly and tried your best to hide your laughter, though you were pretty sure you heard a giggle come from her.

“I’m so sorry baby! Look, it’s not that late, we can start the movie over, or watch another one,” you tried to bargain with her to calm her nerves, “I’ll even go out and get us more snacks—”

“NO.”

The absolute power in her voice stopped you in your tracks. Oh god, she was about to rip into you—

“All I want is to spend time and cuddle with you.” Hands were suddenly cupping and squeezing your cheeks together, “Just spend time with me now.”

Looking at your girlfriend, you could see that she wasn’t even angry at all. She gave you a mischievous smile that told you everything you needed to know; you just played right into her little ploy to get your attention back.

“Oh, you’re sneaky.” You raised an eyebrow at her, earning a small laugh in return. You leaned in to give her a quick kiss.

“Tell you what,” you began, Rosé humming against your lips and wrapping her arms around your neck, “I spend the night tonight, and tomorrow, we can go on a date and do whatever you want. How’s that?”

Rosé gave you a huge smile, pulling you back in for a kiss. “Fine. Sounds good to me.”

[mystery-vixen]

Fluff 2 and/or 15? For Macavity? 🥺🖤🖤🖤

Wooooo boy! Here we go! Get your tissues btw because this will be sad too 😈

Fluff 15: I missed you so much

Characters: Macavity, Jennyanydots

Warnings: Blood, mentions of violence. Some foul language, but nothing explicit.

“Arghh! Watch it, woman!” Macavity howled, swatting Jennyanydots’ careful hands away. She scowled at him, placing the damp cloth back into the bowl between her knees. “This wouldn’t hurt if you were more careful!” She scolded him.

They had been at this for a few minutes now. Macavity had come to her door, bloody and bruised. His fur was matted, stuck together by dried flakes of blood and dripping in some places where his wounds had yet to close. She had wasted no time in pulling him inside and coddling him. She seated him comfortably on her couch where he lay, half awake and dazed. He did his best to keep his eyes open, to appear alert and unfazed by the horrible wounds covering the expanse of his chest and arms, but Jenny knew better. He’d lost a lot of blood. Whatever, whoever had done this had done so in an effort to kill him.

She sighed quietly to recompose herself as she started again. She lifted the soaked cloth from her bowl to wring it out, keeping her eyes on the water as it dripped rather than her son’s wound. Her mind was on the small bowl beside her feet on the floor where she had placed small, broken fragments of bone from Macavity’s side. Teeth. Something big and brutish was behind this. She knew better than to badger him with questions. Especially when he was so irritable. However, this was serious. If he was in trouble, real trouble, then she wanted to know what it was.

“And do I have the pleasure of knowing what happened this time?” She spoke sternly as she continued to clean his cuts. The bleeding had mostly stopped by now and she could clearly see what she was working with. For any other cat, this would have been fatal. Large, circular rings littered his side where something had latched on and punctured his skin. Beneath the bright red of his fur that Jenny had patted down and swept aside were dark bruises. She would hardly be surprised if his ribs had been broken as well. But, his breathing was calm, not strained as she would expect, so he must have been lucky in that respect.

“Got into a fight,” he responded flatly and she cocked a brow at him. “I can see that.” She shook her head as she reached down below the couch. They had done this before. Although, not for a long time. Jenny had many memories of waking up late in the night to find Macavity half alive at her door and she had made a habit of leaving a first aid kit beneath her couch where it was easily accessible. “And, by what, this time, dear?”

Macavity grumbled, turning his emerald eyes away from her calm, blue ones. She could see the wrinkle in his brow, the cogs in his head turning as he contemplated lying to her, but then his eyes returned. He softened his expression and she was confident that he was speaking the truth. “A badger.”

“Just one?” She raised a daring brow to him. “I hardly believe you would be hurt by only one, dear.” Again, his expression changed to irritation and for a moment he chewed his cheek. He released it, sighing quietly and turned his eyes away once more. “Four.”

“Macavity!” She lightly scolded him. It wasn’t in anger. She was worried. She feared for his well-being often. He was reckless, brutal. He never stood down from a fight and from the moment he was born he had a need to prove himself to everyone. Even to his enemies. She’d spent many nights of his youth worrying that he wouldn’t return. That another cat would tell her that they had seen a little red body chewed up and discarded at the roadside. She shivered at the very thought.

“They were skulking around the junkyard, looking for a cat to eat—“

“And you gave them one!” Jenny glared. He returned her glower, but there was no real hatred behind it.

“I made sure they didn’t come back,” he finished with a huff that left him wincing. “They are far worse off than I am right now.” Jenny’s glare softened. She couldn’t bear to argue with him. Not now while he was so hurt and she knew he was in pain. He hid it well, acted as if it was merely an ache. It was agony, but he hid that. Not for his own ego, but for her. So he didn’t worry her. It was something they both shared in common. Jenny, with all her warmth and honesty, could not let another cat worry for her. It was simply something she didn’t allow. For another cat to stay awake at night, worried for her specifically, it was a waste of a good sleep!

“Munkustrap is the protector, son. I’m sorry to say this again, but it isn’t your job to rid the junkyard of these dangers.” His eyes returned to her in a thick glare. A real glare.

“And what should I have done?” He growled darkly. “Should I have left them to go about their fiendish acts? Hope a kitten stayed out late for them to devour?”

“You should have gotten help!” She barked back at him and he shrank down to size. He grumbled, unable to argue with her. She’d taught him that respect a long time ago. Only now he had begun to relearn it.

“I don’t need anyone’s help,” he mumbled, but her ears caught it and she dropped her hands in her lap with a tilt of her head. “And you came to me for what reason?”

He didn’t answer.

“Macavity-“

“I didn’t know where else to go.” He didn’t look at her as he answered. He was embarrassed. His gaze was fixed to the wall opposite to them.

She exhaled softly, dropping her shoulders and frowned at him. She pitied him. She knew he despised that, but she couldn’t stop herself from empathising with him. Not while knowing some, not all, of the horrible things that had happened to him in his youth and early adulthood.

“I’m almost done, dear,” she said, patting down the excess blood from his now sewn wounds. She paused, a thought coming to her mind and she pondered whether to voice it. After a few seconds she spoke quietly. “I missed you so much.”

His gaze returned to her in puzzlement. “What?”

“Pardon,” she corrected him to which he rolled his eyes. She continued, rummaging through the first aid kit for the gauze. “When you disappeared. I missed you. I worried that you may never have come back, but you did.”

“Oh, don’t,” he scoffed and waved a hand in front of his face disgustedly. “All of you with your I miss you’s and I love you’s. They’re ridiculous.”

“There is nothing ridiculous about reminding someone they are loved,” Jenny growled. “I say this to your brothers as well and they tell me often too..” She fell silent. A horrible ache came to her chest and she felt compelled to take this cat between her arms and hold him as she once did when he was a scared, lost kitten. “I love you, Macavity.”

“Don’t,” he quickly responded. He brought a hand to his eyes, and rubbed his forehead with his fingers. “Just don’t.”

“It’s true, dear. You know it is and I know you love me as well. Why else would you swallow your pride and come here?” She hummed and he turned back to her. He lowered his hand slowly, his eyes wide and surprised for a moment before turning to a frown.

“I do.”

“But you don’t say it,” Jenny frowned. The rumble in her ears told her that tears weren’t far from on their way, but she kept them back, for his sake. “You have always struggled to say it since—“

His eyes widened and she stopped herself. She wouldn’t speak of that woman now. She wouldn’t give that horrid.. bitch the satisfaction of being spoken of. Instead, she pushed down her hatred for the queen and sighed quietly. “I was going to have a kitten once. A long time ago.. they would have been your age now.” For once, Macavity was silent. He didn’t interrupt or roll his eyes. He instead watched her silently and respectfully. He’d heard this story before and it pained her every time to retell it.

“I may not have given birth to you, but you will always be my son.” She stifled a whimper. She lowered her head and blinked the tears from her eyes quickly. The memory of the terrible day was still so fresh in her mind.

“You could never replace the kitten I lost,” she whispered. Her eyes rose back to him and she brought a hand to his face. He shied from her touch. She knew how he detested being touched, how he feared it. Years of being accustomed to violence had made him so deathly afraid of kindness and this in itself made her weep. He relented, allowing his cheek to brush cautiously against her palm.

“But, I could never replace you either,” she continued. “That’s why this is so difficult. Seeing you like this and knowing there will be more. I fear the day that you don’t return. I fear one day you’ll be killed! Please don’t make me worry! Don’t make me lose another child.” Tears broke from her eyes and ran down her cheeks quickly. She didn’t move to wipe them away. Although she didn’t want him to see her in pain, she didn’t care to hide her shame. If seeing her tears would convince him of her love then she would cry until she had no more tears to give.

He stared at her silently. He had no discernible expression. No tell of what he felt at that moment. Not until he frowned. Real, honest pity came to his eyes and Jenny tensed as he raised his fingers to her knuckles. She expected him to pull her hand away, to throw her gentle touch away as he had done so every other time she had dared to touch him. But, his fingers only brushed against her hand. The touch was so soft. So unlike him, it made her stop her crying. He turned his head towards her hand and ever so softly he brought his lips to her palm in a gentle kiss.

His lips were unlike the rest of his body. Where his fur was bristled and his skin was calloused, his lips were soft and warm. It made her gasp quietly.

His eyes returned to her. They were gentle and warm. So uncharacteristically kind for Macavity and she could see and hear the honesty in his words as he spoke.

“I won’t.”

[imagining-supernatural]

The Work Call

Part 18 of Seventy Percent

Series Summary: When you left on your trip to Vegas, you’d planned on letting loose for one last weekend before heading back to reality and getting your affairs in order so your best friend wouldn’t be left cleaning up your mess when your cancer finally ended your life. What you hadn’t counted on was waking up married to a celebrity who has a knight-in-shining-armor complex, connections with an oncologist, and amazing insurance…

Chapter Summary:  You call your boss to get some work to do in your free time and do a little flirting ;)

Word Count: 2,258

With Sebastian off in Georgia for a week, you felt like a teenager whose parents just left her home for alone for the first time. Suddenly, you could break all of the rules. Not that your rule-breaking was something that would get you in too much trouble…

Since the press seemed to have gotten it through their heads that you were off limits, you finally had your privacy and space back again. As a result, you were taking advantage of the last few weeks of autumn before the snow came. After your hospital appointments, you walked down the street to a cute little café and sat in one of the over-sized, plush chairs for a bit. You’d either bring a book or your laptop.

On Wednesday, the café cat apparently decided you were okay and hopped up into your lap, purring loudly as you read. You’d snapped a quick selfie and sent it off to Sebastian.

Me: [image attached] Don’t be surprised if you come home this weekend and I’ve catnapped ol’ Misty here

Sebastian: What if I’m allergic to cats?

Me: Sucks to be you, I guess

Me: The apartment’s lonely without you

You stared at the last text you’d sent, suddenly overthinking it. Sure, you were married. And, sure, you were wearing his ring now. But you two hadn’t really discussed what that meant, exactly. So was that last text too strong? Too forward?

Hell, you didn’t even know what you’d meant by it.

Sebastian: Don’t know how I feel about being able to be replaced by a cat

Sebastian: Maybe I need to up my game

Up his game?

Shit, it had been so long since you’d flirted with anyone. So long since you’d even considered a relationship. After your hellish life growing up, you’d put all of your focus into school. You were determined to set yourself up for a better life than the one you were born into. Then you graduated and worked hard to secure your place at your job. School only taught you so much, and you needed to be able to apply what you learned to real life.

Once you felt secure in your professional life and you were finally ready to start exploring a relationship, you found out you had cancer.

So to say you were woefully underprepared for this situation would be the understatement of the year.

Me: Luckily for you, I like Jenny’s coffee so much that I don’t want her to hate me for stealing her cat

Sebastian: You still thought a cat would replace me

Sebastian: That hurts, sweetheart

Sweetheart. In writing. 

Me: I’ll find some way to make you feel better this weekend

Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

Why did you never read over your texts before you sent them?

At least you hadn’t put a winky face emoji. Now that would have been a disaster.

Not that you didn’t want your relationship with Sebastian to keep going. You did. But there was a lot more pressure riding on this than there was back in high school when you went to the prom with Brad Trayton, or in college when you slept with the guy from your Chemistry 101 lab three times before having to break it off with him because he always smelled like bacon.

This was Sebastian Fucking Stan. And you were married to the guy. And you were in a literal life or death situation. If things went badly with him, that would make the rest of your cancer treatment very awkward, to say the least.

Sebastian: I’m sure you will…

Sebastian: I gotta go to a script reading rn. Skype tonight?

Me: Of course

You’d been Skyping with Seb at least twice a day since he left on Sunday night. It was almost like he never left, in that regard.

But with him gone, you found that you had a lot of free time on your hands. With your body starting to get used to the cancer treatment, you also had a bit more energy and nowhere to put that energy to good use.

So you called your old boss back home, dialing his direct extension to avoid getting his assistant. The press might have backed off, but thanks to the updates from Jasmin, people who knew you were still reeling over your marriage.

“Plathway.”

“Hey, Brendon, it’s Y/N.”

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, and you could just imagine him leaning back in his chair. Brendon Plathway was your mentor and had grown into a close friend. Of everyone in your life, you would say he was the closest thing to a good father figure you had. “How are you doing? I’ve seen your name on Facebook a few times.”

“I’m doing pretty good, all things considered. I’m in a clinical study in New York and the doctors are optimistic that it’ll work. They’re hoping I’ll get the tumor out sometime in February.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Brendon said. “And that husband of yours… he treating you well?”

“It’s not… it’s not quite like that. But yeah. He’s great.” It was a pretty decent segue into the reason for your call. “He’s actually out of town, shooting for a TV show. So I have a bit of time on my hands and was hoping—”

“Y/N Y/L/N?”

The unfamiliar voice interrupted you before you could finish. You looked up to see a guy about your age with a newsboy bag, notebook, and tape recorder.

A fucking journalist.

“I thought it was you. You mind if I ask you a few questions?” He didn’t say it like a question, nor did he give you time to respond before he sat on a stool beside you and set up shop on the small table. “If I could write an article on you, it would just—”

“I’m actually on a phone call right now.”

“Oh, I won’t take too long. I just can’t pass up this opportunity. You’re quite the enigma. No one’s gotten your side of the story.”

“And neither will you. I’m not going to answer any questions.”

He completely ignored you, flicked on the recorder, and put his pen to paper. “People have been saying that you planned your rendezvous with Sebastian Stan in Vegas. What do you say to that?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I have no comment for you.”

“I thought you’d appreciate the chance to get your story out there. There are some nasty rumors spreading—”

You cut him off before he could continue. “I know my story and the people I care about know my story. I will not be answering any questions for you today.”

“Do you feel no guilt for being the reason Sebastian Stan’s reputation has taken a massive hit?”

“I’m going to give you one more chance to leave me the fuck alone before I call the cops.” He opened his mouth, but you spoke over him, voice lowering to a red-hot hiss. “And if you write a single word of this conversation or make any sort of insinuations that I said anything at all, I will slap you and whatever blog or magazine you work for with a libel lawsuit. Don’t even think about trying to manipulate your recording because you’re not the only one who has been recording this conversation. The phone call you interrupted was with my boss and it’s company policy to record all incoming and outgoing phone calls. He’s a witness that I repeatedly rejected your attempt to start an interview and anything else you say can be construed as harassment. Have I made myself clear?”

He stared at you, wide eyed. Guess he hadn’t expected a cancer patient to be so blunt. Nevertheless, he gathered his things and stood. Just before walking away, he muttered, “You didn’t have to be such a bitch about it.”

Once he was gone, you groaned. “Sorry about that, Bren.”

“Is that something you have to deal with often? That’s horrible.”

“No. Not since I got sick because stupid reporters were sticking their germy microphones in my face and Seb threatened them with lawyers.”

Brendon hmphed. “Well, you sounded like you had that speech prepared. Sounded like you’d said it a few times.”

“Before he left, Seb made sure I knew how to threaten any reporters like that. Luckily this was the first time I’ve had to remember what he told me.” The reporter had shaken you, and it took a few deep breaths before you felt calm enough to continue with your conversation. “Anyway, back to my original reason for calling… Are there are projects I could jump on long distance? I’ll probably only be able to put in about ten to fifteen good hours of work a week, but it’d be nice to have something to do other than wait for new episodes of my shows to come on Hulu.”

“Let me poke around the office a bit. I know there’s a big one coming up next week. Rachel’s heading that one. You’ve worked with her before right? She’d probably appreciate your input. Trent is in the middle of one for a pharmaceutical company, but he’s not feeling too sure about it. I’ll see if he wants you to try and hack the system and find holes.”

“Anything. I’ve worked with both of them before and I think we work well together. I did quite a few initial proposals before I left for Vegas and I enjoyed those more than most people do.”

He promised he’d send any projects your way that he could. After a few more minutes of catching up, you ended the call and headed outside to wait for Sean in the chilly fall air.

“How was the reading?” you asked later that night. “Any juicy plot lines?”

“Not that I can tell you,” Seb replied. The phone in his hand shifted as he settled further into the hotel bed that Marvel was putting him up in. “But it was good. We’ll start shooting tomorrow.”

“Excited to lube up your arm?”

He laughed, head falling back against the headboard. “I take it you finally did some research on me?”

“A little. The hospital was running behind today, so I was there a bit longer than I planned and I fell down the YouTube abyss of interviews. Anthony seems like a fun guy to work with.”

Sebastian grinned. “He is. Speaking of work, did you call your boss?”

“Yeah.” The reminder of the phone call – or rather of the interruption – made your roll your eyes.

“Didn’t go well?”

“No, no. It did.” You knew your news was not going to go over well with Seb, so you took a minute to get settled into the bed. It had been a long day and laying down felt good. You turned your laptop on its side so your face would still be the right way on Seb’s phone. “Brendon’s gonna check around work and find some projects and work to throw my way. That’s all good.”

“Then what is it?”

With a deep sigh, you began. “While I was on the phone with him, some hipster reporter dude interrupted.”

“Son of a—”

“It took a minute to get it through his thick skull that I was not going to give him a story but he finally left. It just kinda took a bit out of me.”

“God, Y/N. I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yeah, it’s not,” you agreed softly. “But you prepared me. I handled it. Then Sean made me eat dinner with him and his wife. She’s an amazing cook. Sometime when you’re home, they want to have both of us over. And when this is all over, we definitely need to think of a hell of a way to thank him for everything. He’s done so much more than a driver gets paid to.”

The two of you brainstormed for a bit about how to repay Sean for his kindness and friendship. Then your conversation moved on to different subjects, bouncing around for a bit until you yawned for the third time in five minutes.

“You seem more tired than usual. You doing okay?”

“I’m fine. I mean, I haven’t been sleeping well, but that’s your fault.”

“My fault?” he asked.

“Yeah. You made me sleep next to you for two weeks then you just up and leave me alone. It’s rude, Mr. Stan.”

Something in your words sparked something in his eyes that filled you with… excitement?

“Well, Mrs. Stan…” His words were accompanied by a wink that stopped your heart. Forget your brain tumor. Sebastian was going to be the source of your death. “You only have two more nights before I’m home for the weekend.”

Flirting? Were you flirting?

“Two nights with you and five nights without you is just not a fraction I like.”

My god, you were flirting.

“If you can convince Marvel to move their studios to New York, I’m all game. Until then, we’ll have to make the best of those two nights.”

“Make the best of them, hmm?”

“Yeah,” he said in a low voice. “Mackie’s commentary on The Voice isn’t as good as yours. I’ve been waiting to watch the new episodes until I’m with you.”

The unexpected twist made you laugh out loud. It didn’t escape your attention how his eyes crinkled at the sound, affection flooding his expression. “The Voice on Friday and Dancing With The Stars on Saturday?”

“I’ll pen it in my calendar, sweetheart.”

“Ooo. I’m pen-worthy. That’s so much better than pencil-worthy.”

“You’re white-out-worthy, baby. I’d white-out plans I have with someone else to pen in plans with you.”

Fucking hell. Baby was a new one.

If he’d put on half this much charm on you in Vegas when you were drunk, it was no wonder you’d married him.

“Then I guess I need to go erase the pencil plans I had for Saturday evening and make room for you. Maybe even buy a special pen just for you.”

“Maybe wait for tomorrow? You’ve had a long day. Seems like you need a good night’s rest.”

“You too, hun.” The pet name felt foreign on your tongue, but it somehow felt… right? “Shooting starts tomorrow. You need to be ready to keep up with Mackie’s energy.”

“He wants to meet’cha, you know. Apparently I haven’t shut up about you.’

“Gimme a few more weeks to get used to this treatment and maybe I can spend more than three seconds around him without needing a nap,” you joked. “Unless he only has that energy when there’s a camera on him…?”

Seb laughed. “That is him all the damn time.”

“Then I better let you go for the night. You’ve spent the last few weeks shlumping around with me. Gotta get your rest to keep up with him tomorrow.”

“And you gotta get your rest so you can hand out candy tomorrow.”

“I’m excited for that, actually. Trick or Treating really slowed down back in Utah lately. I think last year I got, like, maybe three groups of kids?”

“You’ll get your fill this year. A lot of the kids in the apartment complex go to every door. Just be careful, okay? I don’t want you getting sick.”

It took twenty more minutes before you were finally able to say your goodbyes and hang up. You stared at your phone for a moment before placing it on the side table beside Sebastian’s bed and turning off the light.  

Houston, we've got some flirting!!! Also can we just take a minute to appreciate how amazing Sean is? But things seem to be looking up!

CHAPTER 19: THE LONG DAY

[wonkasmissstarshine]

The Chocolatier’s Rose {Willy Wonka x OC} Ch.28

GIFs not mine. Credit go to owners.

Summary: Rose and Willy have begun planning their wedding. They take Charlie with them to see their new friend Lucy about making a very special dress.

Tagging: @holdmeicant​ @willymywonkers​ @sleepiesapphicxoxo​

Rose and Willy began planning their wedding just days after they got engaged. Willy let Rose handle most of the planning, but he was happy to provide some input when she asked for it.

"Cocoa bean, we need to think about who we're inviting" Rose said to Willy.

"Well, it shouldn't be that hard to figure out" Willy said. "We have a small circle of friends and I want them all to come"

"That's true" Rose said, scribbling a note down in her notebook. "Do you...?" She trailed off, afraid to bring up what she was thinking with Willy.

"Do I what, starshine?" Willy asked, tilting his head to the side.

"Do you want to invite your father?" Rose asked him. She could see Willy tense up. Yes, they had reconciled, but he still got nervous whenever his father was brought up.

"I-I don't know" Willy answered. He fiddled his hands against the table. "Do you think he'd want to come?"

Rose reached over and placed her hands on top of his. "Of course he'll want to come, Willy. I saw all those newspapers on the wall. He's proud of you, and he'll be even prouder that you're getting married. I think he'd like to be here to witness that"

Willy smiled. "Yeah, you're right, starshine! Let's invite my father!"

"Great!" Rose added Dr Wonka's name to the guest list. "That's it for the the guest list" She looked up at Willy. "Where do you want to have the wedding?"

"The meadow, silly!" Willy giggled as he reached over to boop her on the nose. "Where else would we have it? A boring old church?"

Rose grinned and giggled. "I was only kidding, cocoa bean! Of course I want the wedding to happen in the meadow"

Willy propped his elbow onto the table and rested his chin in his hand. He stared and smiled at Rose as she went on about the kinds of things she wanted for the wedding. He loved how excited she was getting.

"And I'm gonna have to talk to Charlie. You two are gonna become brothers, and it'll be weird if he keeps calling you Mr Wonka" Rose said. Even though Willy was staring at her, she knew that he wasn't really paying attention. She could tell by the way he was staring at her with that dreamy look. "You're staring at me again"

"I can't help it, starshine" Willy he said dreamily. "You're just so gosh darn beautiful!" No matter how many times she heard Willy call her beautiful, she still always managed to blush.

"Willy, you're making me blush..." Rose said shyly.

"And you look so pretty when you do" He couldn't help but tell her. At this point, Willy was just trying to get some attention out of Rose. She had been working on that list all morning. She didn't even give him his morning kiss yet. "Starshine?" He drew out the word as he scooted his chair closer to hers.

"Yes, cocoa bean?" Rose said, not looking up from her work.

He placed his chin on her shoulder as he pouted his lips. "You've been busy all morning"

"Planning a wedding is busy work"

"You forgot to do something very important this morning"

Rose looked up. She looked at Willy and furrowed her eyebrows. "Did I?"

"Yeah. You didn't kiss me yet"

"I'm sorry" She said. Rose gave Willy a quick peck on the lips. "There, is that better?"

Willy smiled as he shook his head. Then he took Rose's face in his hands and pulled her into another kiss. Only this one was deeper and longer. "Now I feel better" He said afterwards, resting his forehead against hers.

Rose smiled and hummed. "So do I"

******

That afternoon, Rose took Charlie and Willy with her to go meet Lucy. Rose needed a dress, and she knew that Lucy would be able to make her the one she wanted. They went into the dress shop to find her. "Okay, let's split off and find Lucy" Rose said. Willy raised his hand like he had a question. "Yes, Willy?"

It turns out he did have a question. "What does Lucy look like?"

"She's got fiery red hair. You can't miss her" Rose explained.

"Excuse me?" a woman's voice said. The three of them turned their heads to see a fifty-something, sharply dressed woman approaching them. Her name tag read Judy. "Did you say you were looking for Lucy?"

"Yes" Charlie answered with a nod. "Is she here?"

Judy looked between Rose and Charlie. "I remember you two from the other day. You here with a woman"

"Yes, that was our mother" Charlie mentioned. "Do you know where Lucy is?"

"I'm afraid she doesn't work here anymore" Judy explained.

"You fired her!?" Rose shouted at the top of her lungs. Charlie jumped from beside her, and Willy was giving her a wide eyed look from under his goggles. It was weird to hear Rose raise her voice like that. "How could you!?"

Judy quickly shook her head. "No, no, I didn't fire her. She quit on her own accord. Said something about following her dreams"

"Oh" Rose visibly calmed down. She flashed Judy a small smile. "Sorry for yelling"

"It's alright dear" Judy assured her. "When you work in the retail business, you get used to customers yelling at you"

"Do you know where we can find Lucy?" Charlie asked.

"Yes" Judy reached into the pocket of her blazer. She pulled out a piece of paper. "Lucy wanted me to give this to you if you ever came by again. Has her address on it"

Rose grabbed the piece of paper. "Thank you. And if you don't mind me asking, why didn't you like Lucy's designs?"

"Oh, I loved them!" Judy admitted. "But I didn't think they would sell well in this setting. Everything here is so formal. They would just look out of place" Judy sighed. "I regret being so harsh towards her" And with that, she went to attend to other customers.

"Good! We know where Lucy lives now so we can go see her!" Willy said excitedly.

"Let's go" Charlie said. The three of them left the store.

******

The elevator landed in front of Lucy's house. Charlie walked on ahead, while Rose and Willy followed behind him hand-in-hand. Charlie walked up the steps to Lucy's door and rang the doorbell.

The door was opened by a little girl around the same age as Charlie. "Hello?"

"Hello" Charlie said back to the girl. "Is Lucy home?"

The girl's eyes widened and she smiled brightly. "Oh, you must be her new friends"

"And you are?" Rose asked the girl.

"I'm Jenny, Lucy's little sister" the girl introduced herself. She opened the front door wider and motioned for them to come in. "You can all come in and make yourselves comfortable. I'll go get Lucy" Charlie, Rose and Willy followed Jenny inside the house. She brought them into the living room, and told them to take a seat on the couch, before parting to go get Lucy.

"This is a cozy little home" Rose commented, scanning her eyes around the living room. She sat in between Charlie and Willy. "And Jenny is a cute girl" Rose smirked down at her brother. "Don't you think so, Charlie?"

Charlie blushed. "Rosie!"

Willy suddenly jumped in his seat when he felt something brush up against his leg. "Something just touched me!"

A faint meow followed. Rose leaned over and saw an orange tabby cat rubbing against Willy's leg. Rose giggled at the sight. "It's a cat and I think it likes you!"

The cat hopped up onto Willy's lap. This caused him to grimace and hold his hands close to his chest. He was never really fond of cats or dogs. "Why would it like me?" Willy questioned. He looked to Rose for an answer. "It just met me"

"I see you've met Creamsicle" a new voice said. It belonged to Lucy. She and Jenny joined them in the living room. She laughed as she saw that Creamsicle was already curled up in Willy's lap. "She seems to really like you"

Creamsicle started purring and Willy started panicking. "She's vibrating now!"

"Willy, do you know anything about cats?" Rose asked him with a tilt of her head. Willy shook his head and this caused Rose to giggle again. "Well she's not vibrating, she's purring. That means she's content with you. You're telling me you've never had a cat, dog, or a pet of any kind?"

"Do the squirrels count?" Willy asked and Rose shook her head. "Then no, I've never had a pet before. Not that I've really wanted one. I don't really like cats. Or dogs even" He glanced down at the cat in his lap. "What do I do?"

"You pet her" Rose answered. She grabbed one of Willy's hands and began to guide it along Creamsicle. "Just like this"

"Oh!" Willy grinned. He looked at Rose again. "I do this to your hair sometimes when we're laying in bed" Rose let go of Willy's hand, and he continued to pet Creamsicle on his own. "I like cats now! Well, this one at least"

"Lucy," Rose moved her attention towards the redhead. "If you haven't guessed already, this is Willy Wonka, my fiance"

Jenny's eyes went wide. "This is Willy Wonka!? The amazing chocolatier!?"

Willy looked to Jenny and smiled. "That's me!"

"I'm sorry" Lucy spoke up. Her eyes darted between Rose and Willy. "Did you say fiance? Because when I met you, you said he was your boyfriend?"

"He proposed to me that night" Rose said. She looked to Willy and giggled dreamily. She held onto his arm and leaned against him. "It was so romantic"

Willy copied Rose's dreamy giggle. "This pretty little truffle is going to be my wife" He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Rose then tilted her head upwards and puckered her lips, indicating that she wanted a kiss on the lips. "Oh, does my pretty truffle want a kiss?"

"Your pretty truffle is always wanting a kiss from you" Rose purred at him as she batted her eyelashes at him.

"In that case," Willy cupped Rose's face in his hands. "Come here, pretty little truffle" Their lips connected in a passionate kiss, completely forgetting about the fact that there were others in the room with them.

Lucy smiled awkwardly and folded her hands together in her lap. She looked over to Charlie. "Are they always like this, Charlie?"

Charlie nodded. "They tend to forget that other people are in the room"

Lucy cleared her throat, which caused Rose and Willy to pull away from each other. They both blushed from embarrassment. "Sorry" Rose muttered out.

"Yeah, sorry" Willy repeated.

Lucy smiled at them both. "Oh, it's alright. You should never apologize for being in love. Now, what brings you guys by?"

"I need a favour from you, Lucy" Rose started. "I was hoping that you could make my wedding dress for me"

"Really? Well, I'd be honored to make your dress for you!" Lucy clapped her hands together and bounced with excitement. "What were you thinking of for it? Mermaid, ball gown, trumpet? Lace, sparkles, satin?"

Willy's eyebrows furrowed as he listened to Lucy list of the many ways a wedding dress could be made. "I didn't realize there were so many kinds of dresses" He said. He looked to Rose. "But you know what you want, don't you, starshine?"

Rose nodded. "I sure do! You said you could make a dress out of anything, right Lucy?"

Lucy grew a proud smile and crossed her arms over her chest. "I sure can"

"Do you think you could make a dress made out of cotton candy?"

Lucy's mouth fell open slightly and she stared blankly at Rose. "Cotton candy?"

"Oh, I knew it was ridiculous..." Rose muttered, her smile and shoulders dropping with a sigh. Willy pat her on the knee.

"No, it's not ridiculous" Lucy quickly said. This made Rose perk up again. "In fact, it's the greatest idea for a dress I've ever heard. A wedding dress made out of cotton candy!"

"Does this mean you'll make the dress for me?" Rose asked hopefully.

"Yes!" Lucy squealed, jumping up onto her feet. "It'll take me a bit, considering it'll be made out of cotton candy. And I'm gonna need somewhere where I'll be able to make it"

"You can make it at the factory!" Willy suggested. Lucy absolutely beamed at the suggestion. "And the the Oompa-Loompas would be willing to help you"

Lucy and Jenny shared confused glances with each other. "Oompa-Loompas?" The sisters both said.

"Yeah. The wedding is all they've been talking about for the past couple of days. They're very excited about it and want to help out in anyway they can"

"Okay!" Lucy said with a nod. "I'd love the Oompa-Loompas help! All I need you guys to do for me is give me a room to make the dress in. I'll come to the factory first thing tomorrow morning"

"Could I come too?" Jenny asked.

Charlie looked over to Rose and Willy. "Can she?"

"It's alright with me" Rose answered. She looked over at her fiancé. "What about you, cocoa bean?"

"I don't see why not" Willy said. "It'll be good for Charlie to have a friend his own age to spend time with" He looked over at Charlie. "Not that we don't like spending time with you, it's just—"

"I know what you mean, Mr..." Charlie stopped himself. He remembered what Rose told him earlier before they left. He should start calling him Willy now that they were going to be brothers. "Willy" Rose smiled proudly at Charlie and gave him a pat on the head.

With their visit with Lucy over, Rose could cross of the first thing on her wedding to do list. The perfect wedding dress. And she couldn't wait to see how it would turn out.

[jingabitch]

Armed to the Fangs ch.5

Summary: You grew up in the Hunter’s Guild, understanding that it is your sacred duty as a hunter to protect humanity from the vampires that lurk in the dark, draining the life from anyone unlucky enough to be caught. While making the rounds one night, you encounter Taehyung, a fabled born vampire - not that you know that when he tries to entice you into a dark alley. Next thing you know, you’re kidnapped and taken to their home, where you realise that all of them somehow crave your blood and seem to know more about your past than you do. Finding out about where you came from might be the key to setting humanity free.

Pairing: eventual ot7 x reader; some jimin x reader and namjoon x reader here

Warnings: some description of violence, angst, pining, maybe eventual smut (haven’t decided) but not for a looooong time, slow burn (really the slowest of burns), injeolmi being adorable asf as always, joon loves his plants

Word count: 3.7k

A/N: this is coming a little earlier than I had planned but also I was tired of sitting on it, so here you go! Big thank you to my betas @re-sugance and @jminacious for reading this beforehand and making sure it was okay <3

Series index

You stayed cooped up in your room with only Injeolmi for company for the next few weeks. When it became clear that you were not going to leave your quarters to even look for food, the boys arranged to take turns bringing you meals, like they had when you were a captive. To you, though, there was no difference between then and now, except for how luxurious your surroundings were.

 Injeolmi, of course, was ecstatic about this turn of events. He’d never gotten so much attention in his short life before, and having you around for constant cuddles and playtime was the best thing his furry little self could imagine.

 When you woke up on this particular morning, you hadn’t expected anything to be different. You’d eaten the meals they provided – which were still delicious, and you figured at some point you might as well try to find the chef to compliment him – you were stuck here indefinitely eating the meals he’d prepared for you, after all. You texted back and forth with Jennie and some other hunters you were friends with for a while, since they were just getting in from their rounds, but then they went to sleep and you had nothing to do.

 At around noon, you heard a knock on the door and figuring it was probably your lunch, you opened it.

 What you found on the other side made you blink in surprise. The littlest vampire, Jimin, was standing in your doorway, but instead of a tray of food, he instead held a giant box that almost dwarfed his frame.

 “Uhhh…” you hesitated, unsure of what to say or do.

 “Hi!” he chirped cheerfully, giving you a massive grin. His eye smile was contagious, and you found yourself smiling back at him hesitantly. “I got your cat a scratch tower!” he continued, bouncing the box in his hold a little. “Can I come in and put it down?”

 Unable to turn him away, you ended up just standing aside to let him into your apartment. He entered, put the box down in the middle of the living room, then stood up, his hands on his hips. You stood by the door, wondering if he was going to leave now, but when a moment passed and he still hadn’t moved, you sighed and shut it. “Would you like to help me set it up?” you offered half-heartedly. It wasn’t really a question, because you could tell that was exactly why he’d bought it, and he was clearly not leaving without doing that.

 He grinned at you excitedly as he accepted though, and you rolled your eyes, although perhaps with a little less heat than one could have hoped. Injeolmi was your baby, after all. He really knew what he was doing, approaching you with a gift for your cat.

 “All right, I’ll go get something to open the box with,” you told him, starting to turn away.

 “No need,” he piped up. “I brought a penknife,” he explained when you turned back to look at him inquisitively, pulling it out of his back pocket.

 “Of course you did,” you murmured, but came to sit beside him anyway as he knelt to cut open the tape holding the two flaps of the box together. Injeolmi was no doubt still hidden in your bedroom, wary of a stranger invading his space.

 “So how old is he?” Jimin asked as he moved the flaps out of the way and pushed them down so they would stay that way.

 “Two years,” you answered perfunctorily as you pulled out the instruction sheet sitting on top of a bunch of cardboard and foam packaging. Sneaking a glance at him, you saw his expression as he tried desperately to think of a way to continue the conversation, and feeling a little sorry for him (although you had no clue why, since he was a vampire who probably just wanted you to lower your guard before he ate you) you added, “I found him on the streets during one of my patrols.”

 “O-oh,” Jimin was surprised to hear you continuing the conversation, but recovered quickly. “That must have been quite a story.”

 Thinking about the night you’d found Injeolmi never failed to cheer you up. “It was,” you said, reading the instructions. You didn’t notice the small, contented smile that had stolen over your face, but Jimin did when he looked over after hearing the change in your tone. You were breathtakingly beautiful when you smiled, and he wanted to see it again and again.

 “I’d love to hear it,” he said, instead of telling you how he felt, determinedly focusing on unpacking the parts to the scratch tower he’d bought so that you wouldn’t see the flush that had taken over his face.

 Because Injeolmi had been a secret back at the Guild, chances to talk about your baby had been few and far between, so you leapt at the opportunity to now. “He belonged to a man who had recently turned,” you started. “I chased him all the way back to his house and found that he had drained his entire family.” That part was always difficult to talk about, because no matter how many times you saw the drained, pale, limp corpses, they never failed to make bile rise up your throat. Worse yet, in that particular home, there had been pictures scattered all over the place of a happy, loving family. The father – who was now a mindless, starving, murderous vampire – had, in the pictures, worn such a jovial smile and the love that he’d had for his wife and children shone through his eyes.

 All of that love, love you’d never experienced for yourself but wanted so badly, gone because he’d been bitten. You swallowed hard and continued your story. “Injeolmi was still a kitten then, I think they must have just gotten him, he was so little. After I put the vampire out of his misery, I heard Injeolmi crying.”

 The story so far was turning out to be quite dark, and Jimin almost regretted asking.

 “I found him hidden under the couch. He was so little back then, I could still hold him in my hands. I had to raid their belongings to find the cat food and all of that – he looked so skinny and hungry, like he hadn’t eaten anything for days. Then I just waited with him until the vet opened and I could get him checked out.

 “Then, you know, I snuck him into the Guild and that’s how he became my baby,” you concluded. The both of you had continued unpacking while you were telling the story, so now you were staring at all the pieces and the nails laid out together on the floor. From the picture on the instruction sheet, you had a feeling that he’d gotten a way larger and more elaborate one than one cat really needed so he could spend a longer time in here talking to you.

 Somehow, this scheme touched your heart.

 The conversation flowed easily – you could tell that he really was trying to avoid talking about anything that might set you off or draw attention to his vampiric nature – and by the time the cat tower had been constructed, taking up almost a whole wall in your living room, you’d loosened up around him a great deal. He regaled you with funny stories about his brothers, including a particularly bizarre one involving Taehyung, Jungkook and Seokjin (apparently the oldest one) during the latter’s birthday that had you wheezing on the floor.

 To thank him for buying the cat tower for Injeolmi, you lured the cat out of your bedroom, where he was sulking, with some of his favourite treats. You only had to tear open the sachet of Churu before he was sprinting out of the bedroom to you.

 Snickering at how predictable your cat was, you handed Jimin the packet to let him feed Injeolmi. He looked at you with huge eyes, as if disbelieving that you’d actually be so kind, and you raised a brow at him. Injeolmi, for his part, was impatiently trying to get at the snack in your hand.

 Finally, Jimin took it from your hand and held it out for the cat, squeezing lightly so the paste would come out on top. Injeolmi happily lapped up the tuna-flavoured snack, placing one paw on Jimin’s hand to hold it closer to him, and Jimin looked like he was falling in love.

 When the Churu was all gone, you weren’t sure who was more disappointed, Jimin or the cat, and you rolled your eyes lightly as the vampire looked at you pleadingly while Injeolmi sat back, licking his lips clean. “No,” you told Jimin. “He can’t have more than one.”

 With a sigh, Jimin got up and threw the empty packet in the bin. “Thank you for letting me play with him,” he said as he started making his way to the door. You got up and followed him.

 “No problem,” you replied, and were surprised to find that you truly meant it. “Thank you for the cat tower.”

 He smiled at you so widely his eyes seemed to disappear. “It was my pleasure,” he told you. “And…” he added right before you were about to shut the door. You opened it back up and leaned against the door frame, raising a brow at him. “If you ever want to take Injeolmi on an adventure, we have really nice gardens on the property. It’s cold outside right now, I’m sure he’ll like it. Norwegian forest cats like the cold.”

 You bit your lip to keep from smiling. “I’ll think about it,” you said noncommittally, but from the way he grinned at you as you closed the door, he knew just as well as you did that it was a done deal.

  Jimin left your room and skipped right over to Taehyung’s. It was the middle of the day, which meant most of them were sleeping – save, of course, Jin, who made it a point to prepare your meals for you. It was really cute, even if it meant he wasn’t getting enough sleep and was grouchy all night when they were actually up and about. No one really minded, though. Jin really did love to cook, and it had been so long since he’d gotten the opportunity to, since vampires didn’t eat food.

 Slipping into the cool darkness of his brother’s room, Jimin made his way unerringly to the bed where Taehyung was warmly ensconced. With his enhanced night vision, he didn’t need much light to tell where he was going, after all. He threw himself down onto the mattress, right on top of his brother, who grunted in surprise.

 “Jimin-ah… what the fuck are you doing?” he groaned in his sleep-raspy voice, pushing weakly at his brother’s body. Since he was barely awake, he couldn’t muster up the strength to get him off, and gave up after a second, sinking back into the mattress and starting to go back to sleep.

 Jimin, who wasn’t having any of that today, wriggled around on top of Taehyung so that he couldn’t fall back asleep. “Taehyungie,” he whined, unbearably excited and needing someone to squeal to about all the progress he’d made with you. And your cat! That fluffy, spoilt baby had his whole heart now.

 When it looked like Taehyung was determined to continue ignoring him, Jimin decided that more drastic measures had been taken, and stuck the hand that Injeolmi had touched under his brother’s nose.

 A second later, Taehyung’s eyes had fully opened. Alert now, his gaze snapped to Jimin’s, who was now smirking at him smugly. “Is that…” he trailed off.

 “Yup.”

 “You – what – how?”

 “You snooze, you lose,” Jimin informed his brother. Abruptly infuriated, Taehyung pushed himself up from the bed so hard that Jimin, who was still lying on top of him, fell to the mattress with a yelp. As the two started roughhousing, they didn’t notice Jungkook, who was in the room next to Taehyung, slipping in.

 “Guys, it’s the middle of the day,” he whined, yawning.

 The two other vampires broke apart slightly guiltily. “Sorry, Kookie,” Taehyung apologized.

 Rubbing his eyes, Jungkook came over and lay down between his brothers. “What were you guys fighting about anyway?”

 Instead of responding verbally, Jimin repeated his earlier action, waving his hand under his brother’s nose.

 “Wow,” Jungkook responded, awed. “Is that Y/n’s cat?” he asked, almost wriggling in his excitement.

 “Mhm,” Jimin confirmed.

 “You got to play with him?” Jungkook questioned, wide-eyed.

 Jimin just looked pleased with himself.

 “How?” Jungkook repeated his hyung’s earlier question, but with so much enthusiasm that Jimin couldn’t help but spill the beans. How could he deny the maknae anything when he looked at him with stars in his eyes like that, almost as if he couldn’t believe how brilliant his brother was?

 “I bought the largest, most ridiculously elaborate cat tower I could find online and assembled it together with her,” he divulged, grinning triumphantly as he explained his masterplan.

 Both his brothers gasped, and he could hear the cogs turning in their heads. “No, you can’t also get cat towers,” he deadpanned, knowing that if he didn’t, they would do exactly the same thing.

 “Why not?” Taehyung sulked.

 “Because she has one cat and his cat tower already takes up one entire wall of her living room,” Jimin explained, snickering. “Find your own thing,” he snapped.

 “You’re such a mean brother,” Taehyung whined.

 Jimin shrugged. “You had a head start, bro,” he pointed out. “You were the one who found her.” He could barely keep a straight face as he pointed it out, waiting for the inevitable explosion.

 “She hates me because of that!” Taehyung fairly yelled, frowning even harder now.

 “Well, you tried to drain her,” Jungkook pointed out reasonably. “You can’t possibly expect her to be rolling out the red carpet for you.”

 Taehyung flipped over onto his stomach and screamed into his pillow in frustration, flailing a little. “You come into my room, wake me up in the middle of the day -” he muttered angrily.

 Ignoring his continued ranting, Jimin grinned at Jungkook. “Do you want to hear about Y/n and her cat?” he offered the maknae.

 Predictably, Taehyung fell silent. Irritated as he might be with his brothers, he did want to listen. Jimin, knowing that he had the undivided attention of the other two vampires in the room, launched into a spectacular and almost certainly exaggerated tale of his time with you today, while his audience lapped up every word.

 He left out the part about the gardens outside, because he knew that if he didn’t, all of them would be camped out in the gardens until you decided to show up, which would be extremely strange and probably scare you back into your room for good. Sometimes, his brothers were really too much.

  As it turned out, he didn’t need to wait long at all. The next morning, after rising at six am (what? A lifetime habit of waking up before the sun rose for training, or going to bed in the early morning after a night of patrolling, made it difficult to keep to a normal sleep schedule), you pulled your coat and boots on over your pajamas and got ready to go out.

 “Come here, baby,” you called Injeolmi, opening the door. He’d never been allowed to leave your room back at the Guild since pets were ‘a sign of weakness’, according to Master Bang, but now that you were here, you could do whatever you wanted. And what you wanted was to give your Norwegian forest cat a taste of what winter air was like. You were sure he’d love it; you’d spent many hours looking at videos of his brethren enjoying the cold air and snow.

 He just cocked his head at you, slightly confused. “Come on,” you repeated, kneeling. He ran to you automatically, and you gathered him up in your arms, before leaving your room and shutting the door after you.

 “You’re a chubby little chonk, aren’t you, baby boy?” you told him as you wandered down the hallway. He didn’t respond, but looked up at you, and you took that as confirmation that he was, in fact, paying attention to you, and continued talking to him as you tried to figure out how to get to the gardens. Maybe you should have asked Jimin for help, but that ship had sailed now, and it couldn’t be that hard to find an exit to this freaking mansion.

 Finding a small spiral staircase at the end of the hallway, you made your way down, pleasantly surprised to find yourself in what appeared to be servants’ quarters. “There has to be some sort of exit here, right?” you mumbled to yourself, readjusting your grip on Injeolmi.

 Finally, after some lost wandering (and serious consideration to breaking a window or something just to get out of the building) you found some sliding glass doors that opened to the gardens. The moment you pushed it open, Injeolmi chattered happily at the new sensation of the cold air rushing through his fur, and you smiled at him bemusedly as you bent over to put him on the ground.

 Excited now, he ran off to explore some bushes, and you followed at a more sedate pace, keeping an eye on him to make sure he didn’t hurt himself. The sun was starting to rise now, since you’d taken so long to find your way out of the maze-like halls of the mansion, and you had to admit that the garden really was pretty, bathed in the pink and orange glow of the sunrise.

 Based on what you knew about vampires, they were incredibly sensitive to even the faintest sunlight, so you expected to be alone this morning. It was why you hadn’t bothered arming yourself before you left your room, something you regretted immensely when you rounded a corner and saw the tall vampire crouched before a giant rose bush.

 Namjoon could hear you the moment you opened the sliding doors, of course, but didn’t want to confront you or make you feel uncomfortable by announcing his presence prematurely, so he’d continued his gardening. Plus, of course, he was used to having this time to be alone with his precious plants, and he figured if you didn’t cross paths with him today… well, there’d be other opportunities.

 As he looked over at you, however, he wondered if that had been a miscalculation. You looked at him like you’d seen a ghost, your eyes almost bugging out of your head as you gaped at him. Really, not the most attractive expression, but he still thought you were immensely adorable, and in different circumstances he might have come over to kiss your cheek.

 “Good morning,” he greeted, standing up and brushing soil off his pants.

 “Yes, good morning,” you murmured in response, collecting yourself, though you were still frowning. He ached to smooth that crease in your brow.

 You were abruptly feeling very vulnerable standing in front of a vampire without any of your weapons, so you fiddled with the sleeve of your puffy jacket, your gaze sliding over to where Injeolmi was still sniffing curiously at some bushes. Really, you thought, his lack of reaction to the vampire standing in front of him was very out of character, considering how wary he’d been of Jimin yesterday.

 The silence stretched out awkwardly, until Namjoon finally couldn’t take it anymore and asked, “What brings you out here this early?”

 You shrugged. “I wanted to let Injeolmi explore,” you explained, your eyes drifting back over to your cat, who was having the time of his little life, really.

 “Right…” Namjoon responded, not really knowing how to carry on the conversation.

 “Jimin told me about the gardens yesterday,” you explained, unexpectedly throwing him a bone.

 “Yeah?” he asked, looking pleased. The gardens were his pride and joy – he’d need to thank Jimin later for sending him this unexpected gift.

 “Yeah, he wasn’t exaggerating, too. The gardens are really pretty,” you said, looking around.

 Namjoon’s chest puffed up – he couldn’t help it. “Thank you,” he said.

 Your gaze shot back to his. “You did all this?” you asked, gesturing at the garden in general.

 He nodded proudly, looking around. It really was spectacular, he thought, looking at the various plants, bushes and trees he’d cultivated and pruned. Different parts of the garden had different themes – this was a rose garden, like they had in Victorian movies in the West, and in another corner there was a Japanese-inspired Zen garden, and in yet another part, a small replica of the gardens at the Forbidden City in China and so on.

 He took you on a tour of the gardens, showing you as much as he could before the sun grew too strong and he had to retire. You were suitably impressed by his work, something that made him feel warm and fuzzy inside. You collected your cat, who’d decided to take a nap on a patch of grass, and he walked you back to your room since you confessed that you were likely to get lost again attempting to return.

 “Namjoon-ssi?” you said as you walked side by side quietly.

 “Hmm?”

 “I think it’s really impressive that you managed to cultivate such a massive and diverse garden,” you complimented him.

 He flushed, ducking his head at the praise. “It was nothing. I’ve had a very long time to do it,” he brushed aside your compliment, looking embarrassed.

 “Still,” you persisted. “It really is something.”

 “Thank you, sweetheart,” he said, the term of endearment rolling off his tongue as smoothly as water.

 You blinked at him, wondering if you’d heard him correctly. Then again, he was a lot older than you, right? Maybe it was just one of those things, you shrugged off.

 “Have a good rest,” you bade him goodbye at your door. He nodded and smiled as you returned to your room to wash Injeolmi’s paws, waiting for you to shut the door behind you before he leapt around in excitement, punching the air with his fist.

[my-fanfic-library]

Something Different {BBC Dracula x Reader} [24]

Masterlist

[F/N] = father’s name

[B/N] = brother’s name

~^*^~

You tugged open a drawer, pulling out some underwear, before moving down a drawer to pull out some clothes that you always kept here in case you were forced to stay (like last night). Your body was sore, especially your stomach.

On the bed, Dracula was watching you as you dressed, loving the way the golden light hit your body and licked you in an angelic hue. The side of the bed that you had slept on was cooling quickly and Dracula hated the feeling of you slipping away. If you weren’t already worrying about what your parents were going to say when you dared to venture downstairs, he’d most definitely have you back in his arms. He eyed the wall. He would love to ram you up against it, make you squirm beneath him. Maybe throw you up so that your heat was in line with his face, legs wrapped around his head, back against the wall.

“Drac,” your voice broke his thoughts and he looked over at you, in just a pair of black lacy thongs and matching bra, “stop drooling, you’re soaking the sheets.” You winked.

“I believe the person who quite literally soaked the sheets was you.” It was his turn to smirk.

“Yeah but...” you trailed off, flushing, “get dressed.” You hissed in embarrassment. 

Dracula chuckled, pushing himself up to follow your orders. He knew you were already freaking out, he didn’t want to stress you any more. Within minutes, you were both dressed and you were staring at the door. Dear god, you were certain that the whole of London had heard you last night.

~^*^~

You sat opposite your mother, hands in your lap as she glowered at you. Dracula was sitting besides you, opposite your father who was lighting a cigarette.

The tension swirled in the air.

“You not hungry, Drac?” Your father spoke, breathing out a cloud of white. He pointed to the plate with an untouched full English.

“I’m afraid I’ve lost my appetite this morning, I’ve already eaten.” Dracula smiled politely and you shot him a look. When had he snuck out?

“What? After all of your strenuous activity from last night?” You gawked at your father. He had that look on his face that you knew all too well. He was doing this to get a rise out of your mother.

“[F/N]!” She shrieked.

“What?” Your father shrugged, taking another drag. Dracula smirked, “I’m just saying. If I’d been that busy, I’d be eating like a pig.”

“You are a pig.” She grumbled, “I cant believe you [First]!” And he had started her off... you shot your father look, “Doreen three doors down heard you! Not to mention you kicking poor Chelsea to the curb like that!”

“She had it coming.” You muttered.

“She did not ‘have it coming’!” Her face was turning purple as you started to sulk at her outburst, “she was only being nice!”

“Mother, being nice is laughing at a joke or asking if somebody has a pet! Not climbing all over them when you know they’re in a relationship!” You snapped back, narrowing your eyes. Both men were watching, very clearly enjoying the commotion.

“You didn’t need to do that to her! Oh my goodness, what are the wives going to be saying about this?” She dramatically put her hand to her face.

“Oh, you just worry about the gossip, eh?!” You slammed your hands down on to the table, “don’t worry about how your own damn daughter feels about some bitch trying to sleep with her boyfriend!”

“[First].” Your father said sternly, “don’t swear at your mother. And don’t hit the table, it’s real mahogany. None of that veneer shit.”

“You just worry about your table, [F/N]! Don’t worry about your poor old wife being abused by her only daughter!” Your mother cried out, in hysterics all of a sudden.

“I just told her! What else do you want me to do?” Your father defended.

“My god, I liked that Daniel fellow more than this...” your mother whispered.

“Mother, I had sex with Daniel in your bed when you went to Tenerife for two weeks. We also had sex on your porch swing, which is how it broke!”

Your father and Dracula had to conceal their fits of laughter at your confession and your mother’s subsequent shock that followed. A high-pitched sound of distress came from her ajar mouth.

“I KNEW IT WASN’T MRS. DENNINGS’ CAT!”

“Oh, and another thing - I don’t give a damn who heard me last night! I don’t care if all of London heard me because I love him-“ you pointed to Dracula, “and if I want to scream and cry at the way he makes me feel in the privacy of my own bedroom, then I will!”

Now, bearing in mind that Dracula hadn’t really felt anything in around 473 years (the length of time it had been since his heart had last beat), the way that you defended yourself by screaming for the whole street to hear that you loved him-. Well, there was a pang of something in his chest and the need to be as close to you as physically possible grew exponentially. You really were something different. Falling in love with a vampire, disobeying your own mother, working for an organisation that is definitley doing different to what it says on paper, yet the whole time regaining your innocence and your goodness. Your emotions wrapping you up and controlling almost every single thing that you did. You loved him - and he was certain that he loved you even more.

“[First] [Last]!” She cried out, face almost bulging in her despair, “how could you do this to me?! I’m going to be the topic of all of their gossip for weeks!”

“I don’t care! And neither should you! It’s gossip! Half of it isn’t even true!”

“How could you say that?! Barbra heard from Clarissa last week that Jenny has some man on the side and Sally has photo evidence!”

“That’s her cousin, mother!” You cried out, frustration filling your body. How someone could be so hung up on all of this trivial stuff was beyond you.

“Still! Everyone is going to be talking my daughter - the savage who beat poor Chelsea to the street and then who screamed the street down having angry sex afterwards with a man her father’s age!” You could tell that she was getting worked up and you sighed.

“Right. If you are going to dwell on this, then I am going to get up, walk out of that front door and you can consider yourself childless.” Her jaw dropped.

“[First].” Your father warned sternly.

“I’ve completely had it with you, now, worrying over everything everyone says about everyone else. They’ve twisted your mind so much that you’d actually try and control your adult daughter? You’re just upset that I wouldn’t go with Mark, but he’s a creep. He takes pictures up women’s skirts and goes to bars to hit on literal teenagers. And if you can’t accept that I am with Dracula, the man that I love, and you would rather worry over all the gossip that comes from it, then I am done and you can just have your son in Thailand who hasn’t been bothered to call in four years instead of your daughter who moved down the street just to be near you. I can’t take this anymore.”

“[First] [Last] will you get a grip of yourself?” Your father spoke lowly, tapping his cigarette onto the empty plate to rid some of the ash.

“You won’t leave me.” Your mother whispered, “you can’t. Because you know you’ll need me when he gets bored of you.”

Snap.

“Fuck you.”

You rose, glaring at her in a thousand ways. Your heart throttled in your chest. Now she’d done it. You knew that she loved you. Of course she did, but she would never let things go. She had always critiqued both your brother and yourself with every choice the pair of you made, but ever since your brother had left, she’d began to spend nearly all her time with the wives gossiping. She had become a tyrant and it was eating you up. You were tired of her constant criticism. You were tired of having to live to appease her friends. You weren’t doing it anymore.

“This is why [B/N] left.” You sneered, “because of you. Because he was in love with Kannika but you just wouldn’t stop trying to force him into a way of life to appease your friends. But not me, I won’t do it. Now I’m gonna go grab my shit. If I haven’t got a sincere apology from you before I open that front door, I am gone. Just like [B/N].” Your mother was staring at you in horror, tears in her eyes. Now your father was looking at your sharply.

You turned, fleeing the room and storming up the stairs. It only took a moment for the door to shut behind you and for Dracula to be blocking it once more. Once your dress was bundled in your arms, you turned to look at him.

“Move.” You growled.

“[First], you don’t want to do this.” He spoke softly.

“Yes I do. Now move so that I can teach her a lesson.”

“No matter your age, it isn’t a child’s place to teach their parents a lesson.”

“What? So you’re just gonna let her talk about us like that? Like we’re some freaky couple or something? No, move.” Now it was him that you were glaring at.

“[First], this is your mother. You don’t want to cut her out.”

“Very clearly I do. Move!” You bellowed.

“I am not moving. You are going to sort this out.” His voice darkened with his growing anger.

“Oh, I am, am I?”

“Yes.”

“And since when did you become the boss of me, huh? Being your girlfriend doesn’t make me your property, Dracula.” Your eyes narrowed. Now you were trying to pick a fight with him, too. He knew that you didn’t mean it but he couldn’t help the anger bubbling in his gut. You were being a brat.

“I am being serious. You need to calm yourself down, recollect your mind and go downstairs and have a civil conversation with your mother.”

“Alright. You go back down. I’ll calm down and meet you down there.”

Like fuck you were. Dracula, wanting to believe with every fibre of his being that you wouldn’t flee, gave you all of his trust and left the room. You were so gone with the anger. It hadn’t really settled down since last night. Grabbing your bag that you had brought last night, making sure your phone was in, you pulled out a backpack from your wardrobe and stuffed it inside, along with your dress and both of your shoes. Dracula had retrieved the one you threw at Chelsea - most likely when he went out to eat whilst you were sleeping.

And then you did something that you hadn’t done since you were seventeen years of age.

Clambering onto the bed, you tugged your backpack on and drew up the blinds to free the glass of the window. It was unlocked, and you pushed it open. You swung your leg over it was maybe only a foot away from the roof of the extended front, and you lowered yourself down. Carefully, you manuvered over the tiles, so that you could drop down by the front door, instead of the large window which would give you away.

Were you really going to do this? You had no idea what Dracula would do when he found you gone and the window open. You knew that this would break your parents’ hearts. You knew that Doreen three doors down would tell the whole city that you had fled your own home in the morning. You had to do this. Enough was enough.

Your feet hit the path, the pressure of dropping spreading through your legs. You turned and rushed to the gate. When you made it to the fence, you ducked down and waddled in a squat so that they wouldn’t see you rushing past.

“She’s going to calm down and then apologise.” Dracula explained to your mother, who was in genuine tears at the thought of both of her children leaving her in anger.

“She’s not.” Your father spoke.

“I’ve just spoken to her-“ Dracula began, but your father cut him off.

“I’ve just seen her run down the front path.” He lit another cigarette as he spoke.

Another pang of something hit Dracula in the chest. This one was painful. He ran to the door, skidding as he did so and rushed out. He caught a glimpse of you turning the corner.

“[FIRST]!” He made a dash for you. But once he reached the corner and began to sprint down the road, he realised that you had disappeared, “I’m going to kill her.” He whispered, feeling an intense wave of pain in his chest - something that hadn’t occurred in almost five centuries.

~^*^~

You sat across from Jack. You were still angry, but for his sake, you decided to just calm yourself. A cup of hot coffee sat steaming in front of you. The scent wafted into your nostrils and you sighed.

“Rough night?” Jack teased. You guessed he had heard some of your night with the Count.

“Rough morning. I climbed out of the window. My mother’s’ furious with me and she can go fuck herself.” You grumbled.

“What did you expect? She’s been trying to set you up with Mark for the better part of ten years and you waltz in with someone definitely not approved.”

“I didn’t realise a 26 year old needed her mother’s permssion to date.” There was a pause, “let’s not talk about it-“ your phone buzzing cut your off. You dug it out of your bag.

Dracula.

You switched off your phone and turned your attention back to Jack.

“What is it that you wanted to say?”

“I mean, I needed both of you here, to be honest...” he trailled off.

“Dracula doesn’t matter. Just tell me.”

“Alright. So, you know his lawyer, Renfield?”

“Yeah?”

“Well he told me what happened at the apartment. When he fought Dracula over you...”

“Right...?”

“He came to Robin Hood’s Bay, expecting you to have fled there. He’s totally gone beserk, [First]. He’s trying to track you down.” Your heart began to falter.

“What do mean he’s trying to track me down? What does he want with me?” The horror beginning to lace your words was drowning your tone and you began to rut your leg up and down under the table.

“He’s a vampire, [First]. He wants your blood. Specifically yours.”

You completely froze up. This was it. You couldn’t outrun a vampire, you knew that from Dracula. One way or another, he would find you, and eventually, so would Renfield. Essentially, Jack had come to tell you that you were sooner (much rather than later), going to die.

“What- I-... what are we-? What am I gonna do?!” You whispered in a panic.

“I don’t know. Do you think you could get to [B/N] anytime soon?”

“He’d find me, wouldn’t he? All he’d have to do is find out where my brother is and he’d find a way to get to Thailand.”

“Alright, well, is there anyone else that you could stay with?”

“...no...” you whispered.

Jack bit his lip in thought. An idea occurred to him. He knew that it would work. The only problem, of course, would be you. Making you agree to it would be so difficult.

“Why don’t you stay with Daniel for a while?”

You began to laugh at his words, after an initial pause of “what the fuck”.

“Yeah, right!”

“I’m serious. Literally no one would think about you going there.”

“Yeah, I’m being hunted by the most dangerous creature to exist, let me just go suffer for the last few days of my life by spending them with my cheating ex.”

~^*^~

You glared into the familiar emerald orbs, loathing the hand on your shoulder that forced you through the threshold of the apartment. You stepped away from the touch, looking around. It was small and cozy, quite homely. Clearly there had been a downgrade after you had left.

He looked at you, and then at Jack. Jack had never been so serious in all of their years of friendship, and he thought that he’d never see you again. He took in the sight of you. You had gone through your final change of adulthood during your split, your face maturing one last time, leaving you looking even more beautiful than the last time he had seen you. You had grown just a little taller, almost matching his height now.

Stepping backwards, he sat down on one of his two sofas and motioned for you to sit. Jack steered you towards the material and forced you down like a disobedient dog.

“What can I do for you?”

It was the first time had spoken a full sentence since that day and you remembered his voice speaking all sorts of things to you. Jack rummaged in your bag. He was about to do something that he knew would break your heart. He had to. Your safety was number one priority.

“She needs to stay here for a while.” Jack explained, pulling your phone from the bottom of your back and switching it back on.

“Why?” He leaned forwards. His hair had grown quite a bit and the blond locks fell into his eyes a little.

“It’s a long story, and you won’t believe it. So all you need to know is that someone dangerous is after her. She needs to be kept safe.”

You couldn’t speak. Your heart was pounding in your ears. You were shaking a little. Ever since you had ran away from this city, from this very person sitting in front of you, you had forced your heart back together without getting closure on the pain. Right now, it felt almost as raw as it had done. You could be married to him right now. None of this would be happening. You could be a mother, with a house and a loving husband. Yet you weren’t. You were here, sitting across from the man you had fled from, fleeing from a monster who wanted to kill you.

“She can stay.” He spoke, unable to take his eyes from you. It had been so long.

“Thank you, Daniel. I’ll pay you for extra food and stuff.”

“I’m not a pet.” You growled to Jack.

“No one said you were.” Daniel answered for him.

You couldn’t reply. You didn’t really care what Jack was doing on your phone. Maybe you would have if you had looked over.

[DraccyBoifriend: where are you?]

[DraccyBoifriend: come back.]

[DraccyBoifriend: you need to sort this out.]

[DraccyBoifriend: [First]. Please.]

[DraccyBoifriend: 6 Missed Calls]

[You: it’s over. we’re through.]

~^taglist^~

@vampiregirl1797 @avalanet @bunnyreese12 @nerdonpluto @teamceleries @grifffins @hitbythunder @winterseoul @mymagicsuitcase @angeli-fucking-cat @benedictethegoddess @bloodhon3yx @nifflersravenclaw @writteninthestars288 @labelladrama @frankcastlesgrunts @angelicdestieldemon @quakerlasss @aliisa-jones @wolverinexmenn @clairedragonessbaker @cryiner @mitsukatsu @piratewhore @your-pixels-are-showing @tardisnesss @ladydovahkiin180 @catwomom @god-of-dramatic-death-scenes @th3rah @viper-queen @mephdcosplay @greghouse7 @faeprinces @kokoro-no-yami @trishaferdream @therealmoni @crazytxgradstudent @sansthelonelypunster @crowley-needs-a-hug @girlonfireice @wasntpriscilla @ivanna6026 @savebensolo-ordie

[ktheist]

for the drabble game: college!taehyung + sentence starters + no. 8 under misc

8. “But I’ve never told you that before.”

muses. fratboy!taehyung / college!taehyung

x

kim taehyung and you have an odd relationship.

you’re not even friends, really. just two friends of a friend who makes an accquaintance and happened to find themselves in a secluded class some time after 5, once most of the classes are vacant. the lecturers have their own rooms and the classes are manned by persons from the admin and they hardly ever come around until 8pm when it’s time to lock the doors.

you find out taehyung’s obsession for art and he finds out your obsession for interior design. at least yours isn’t too far off from what mechanical engineering entails.

at some point, you can even say your interests are like two streams running side by side until it mingles at one point in time.

then, you find out that he’s part of one of the most notorious fraternities for their wild parties that lasts for three days straight at the end of every semester. and oh, here’s the good part, only the popular ones get invited.

“figures why you haven’t heard of me,” you tease.

“what? no! i-i’ve heard of you, i just didn’t have the pleasure of meeting you,” his wide-eyed gaze hints at a sort of innocence his brothers lack.

you wonder how he got sucked into the frat house shenanigans.

“chill, i was kidding, i’ve been laying low anyway,” you wave a hand.

“wh-what? why?” he asks and you’re not particularly restricted to telling him the reason.

“first year, jimin and i would’ve celebrated our 4th year anniversary - if you can’t tell, we were high school sweethearts,” you laugh, chest still prickled with the kind of pain only time can heal, “but yeeun came along, he fell for her and since she’s more popular, everyone just started believing that i was the one who got in between her and jimin.”

the rage in taehyung’s eyes spread like wildfire, burning and tearing down everything in its path until you place a hand on his shoulder and he looks at you as if you’re a goddess sent to placate hades’ wrath.

“it’s chill, at least i’m one heartbreak away from finding the right one,” you say.

but taehyung finds you with puffy cheeks and pink eyes as you walk out of the bathroom. it’s no surprise and yet it is. kim yeeun spilled coffee all over your hair and shirt and the slap you give her still reverberates against the walls of the lecture hall.

your friends who came out a second later connects the two dots and nudges you towards taehyung before scurrying away, but not with a threat of ‘you better not make her cry more, kim taehyung’.

why they left you with a boy you barely know is beyond you - but perhaps it’s got to do with the fact that delta psi is in tight rivalry of beta nu, the frat jimin’s been loyal to after he broke your heart and gave his to the girl that’s been microaggressively picking on you since day one.

“i heard the red mark on kim yeeun’s face is still there,” he casually says three days after he’s been running up to you every time he sees you somewhere in the large building made for sleepless engineering students.

“it better, i almost twisted my wrist because of it,” you roll your eyes but taehyung must have known that the hostility is awkward, forced.

then, so it goes, the many instances where kim taehyung and you would be spotted laughing or walking together as if he’s the boy who mended the broken girl’s heart.

unbeknownst to them that you’re the one gradually breaking taehyung’s heart with your ‘you know what, i’ve never had a guy friend’ and ‘chill, you’re scaring my potential boyfriends!’ at parties he starts bringing you to.

“i can’t wait to see johnny again,” you confess, smile curling on your lips as you nudge taehyung’s elbow, “aren’t you curious who this johnny-from-hometown is? might be another subject of you death glares.”

surprisingly, kim taehyung doesn’t bat an eye at the mysterious mention of the name.

“i know, she’s your cat.”

he keeps on walking whilst you stop dead in your track. it doesn’t even take fiv seconds to notice your lack of presence on his side before he stops too, twirling around and shooting you and arched eyebrow.

“but i’ve never told you that before,” you feel your own brows coming together in a frown.

“you mumble in your sleep,” taehyung points out as if it’s the most obvious thing to do.

“oh,” you whole heartedly believe him, falling back into pace with him.

in hindsight, you should’ve probably been more careful when you talk about sleeping and being in each other’s presence whilst that activity was happening. even if it was just taehyung helping out a drunk and offering her shelter until morning comes.

“yoo jia heard it with her own ears! they’re sleeping together!” is what’s been circulating around at the start of the week while you’re stretching your arms over your head as a yawn escapes you.

“i don’t wanna be that person, but,” jennie kim loops her arm around yours when she finds you in the hallway, heading to your shared class, “are you and kim taehyung finally dating?”

“finally?” you feel the muscles on your face contort into an ugly frown, “wait, does that mean there’s been speculations we were gonna end up dating? what?”

and that’s how you find out the rumor that starts up a fire throughout your whole class. by noon, it gets almost impossible to ignore those prying eyes that sticks with you as you stand in front of taehyung, “did you know? about the rumor?”

“can’t say i didn’t,” he shrugs.

“god-” you smack his arm and he dramatically raise his shoulders in brace for impact, “-damn it, why didn’t you tell me?!”

“what good would it do if i told you? ah! cuddlebugs, you’re hurting me!” his voice is exceptionally loud.

“c-cuddlebugs? what the-” you’re rendered frozen and wide-eyed by his tricks yet something in churns with butterflies.

“i’ll see you tonight, okay?” he pinches your cheek and slips past you with a sort of smirk that you’ve never seen him wear.

everything gets weirder from there after.

you become hyper aware of what kim taehyung does or say, the way he has two smiles; a pure box-ish one and a titled smirk that’s just enough to get your heart racing when paired with a rase of his eyebrows. there’s a hint of masculinity under the scent of fruity floral juul he smokes and sticks to his shirt. and his touches tingle. they tingle like a ghost of a touch lingering on the hand that he mindlessly holds to keep you from being pushed around by the wave of dancing bodies.

he laughs when you pull your hand away and crosses your arm over it, “chill, i wasn’t trying to make a pass on you, just making sure you’re still there when i turn around.”

you’ve had records of getting lost in the crowd when it comes to parties - and when are parties not crowded?

taehyung hands you an unopened can of beer and you look at him questioningly because he always pops it open for you, “you don’t trust me to hold your hand but you want me to open your drink for you?”

there’s an underlying brazenness in his teasing tonight, as if he’s mistakenly decided to wear a cloak of a frat boy than the kim taehyung you’ve known and loved.

as a friend that is.

“whatever,” you gulp down the drink with reckless abandon, appreciating the bitterness that somehow roots you to reality despite the impending buzz that’ll drive you away from said reality.

and then you’re back to your old self, laughing and joking around in that bench outside of taehyung’s frat house, sitting a little too closely until your thighs are perched on top of his and his hand is drawing circles on the outside of your thigh.

“i don’t like that,” you confess, “the way you’re trying to act all sexy and hot,” and without any warning, you take his face in your palms, squishing his cheeks, not enough to hurt but enough to make his eyes go wide with surprise and that innocent glint in them, “now, that’s better. that’s my taehyung.” 

then his hand travels up from your thigh to your cheek, caressing the heated area of your face with his knuckles, “but if i’m the cute, childish taehyung, you won’t see me as a man.”

“man schman,” you huff, hands falling into your lap, “a real man won’t feel the need to act masculine to get a girl.”

“then... if i tell you i-”

and that’s when you lean so far back, almost hitting your head against the metal edge in the process if taehyung hadn’t caught you in time. eyes screwed shut and mouth partly open, you mumble, “man... schman...” 

taehyung shakes his head, a smile playing on his lips. he unzips his hoodie and wraps it around you - that’s another one he won’t get back, but he doesn’t mind as much because- 

“you’re lucky i like you.”

[jamiemackenziefraser]

All That Was Fair

Chapter 14: Unexpected Visitors

Summary: Visitors disrupt the Fraser household.

Read on AO3

Read chapter 14 on tumblr below the cut

Previous, master list, next

Chapter 14: Unexpected Visitors 

***

The next morning, Claire’s perfect tranquility was interrupted by a terrifying brring-brong. 

She jerked wildly around from her place on the “couch”, her heart racing in her chest, before she remembered the last time she’d heard that sound and Jamie had explained that it simply indicated there was someone outside. With cautious steps, she made her way toward the door and pressed her ear against it, listening. No sound of anything threatening at least. But also no sign of Jamie— who was upstairs in the shower.

Claire remembered the other day when there had been a man with something to give Jamie. It was probably that again, and if it was something important, she didn’t want him to miss it. 

Fumbling the odd shaped thing that opened the door, she tugged at it, but it wouldn’t budge. Then she spotted the problem and freed the sliding bit. After struggling with the oddities humans had for securing their place, Claire finally managed to free the door and it swung open. 

She was greeted by blue eyes— Jamie’s eyes— staring at her in astonishment. His sister. Claire had only gotten a glimpse of her the other day but there was no mistaking the fierce dark-haired woman that shared many features with her Jamie. 

“Who are you, then?” Jenny demanded. 

Claire was momentarily struck dumb. Thoughts of the last conversation— or rather, confrontation— that Jenny had with Jamie whirled in her head and made her feel dizzy. He hadn’t wanted his sister to know about her. But obviously that stone had been turned over, because here she stood in front of the woman, mute and motionless. She wished she could just disappear.

This whole being-seen-by-humans thing had its drawbacks. 

“Cat got yer tongue? Answer me! Who are ye, and what are ye doin’ answerin’ my brother’s door?” 

The expression Jenny was wearing could safely be classified as accusatory. Her eyes were narrowed, hands rested on her hips. Claire had to take a gulp of air. 

“Cat…?” Claire echoed. She glanced behind her to where Adso the cat was basking in the morning light— who very clearly did not have her tongue. Bewildered, she placed a hand to her mouth and shook her head, brows furrowed. 

She knew Jenny had said more after that strange human expression, but Claire was buzzing with anxiety so strongly that she couldn’t quite seem to remember. 

“Who are ye?” Jenny demanded, more slowly this time, clearly agitated by Claire’s befuddlement. 

A swallow. “Claire,” she managed, but she was unequal to the task of providing her with any more information.

Where was Jamie?

All of a sudden, Jenny shouldered her way past Claire and inside unceremoniously. It was only then that Claire realized a man was standing behind her. Ian, she surmised, based on what Jamie had told her after the last visit. He walked closer a few steps and held out his hand, saying in a pleasant tone, “I’m Ian. Nice tae meet ya.” 

Claire had no idea what to do with the proffered hand. She wasn’t inclined to touch strange humans and took a hesitant step back with her gaze fixed on it. She glanced back up at Ian and helplessly offered, “I’m Claire.” 

He gave her an odd look and then slowly lowered the hand. 

“Nice tae meet ye, Claire. Ye’ll have tae excuse my wife, she doesna seem to have any manners when it comes tae her brother.” 

Claire gave a shaky nod, unsure how exactly to proceed, and then simply stepped aside to allow Ian past her. 

Jenny was waiting for them, hands on her hips. 

“So I suppose ye’re the trollop then? The one from the fittin’ room? Ye’re the reason he’s been missin’ all this work?” 

Claire shot a glance over her shoulder, hoping beyond hope that Jamie would choose this moment to appear. But no one came to her aid, and Jenny was inclined to continue. 

“Well…” Claire wasn’t sure what a trollop was, but she understood the last part well enough, “I suppose. But-” 

“-I kent my brother was a fool, but to bring his little play thing into his home…” 

“Dinna speak of her that way,” came a low, menacing voice. 

Claire felt a wash of relief as Jamie appeared across the room behind his sister, already glaring daggers and squaring up for a fight. 

“Jamie!” Jenny exclaimed, whirling around to face him, “What are ye thinkin’? Do ye even ken this lass?” 

Jenny seemed to grow red, and— sensing the burgeoning conflict— Claire needed a retreat. She inched her way across the room warily, slipping around Jenny, and then pressed herself to Jamie’s side. He was also thrumming with tension, his gaze never leaving his sister and his full height utilized, but as Claire slipped her hand into his, he seemed to calm a bit. The red energy around him began to ease in the slightest. 

“Aye, I ken Claire. And if ye didna come in here rarin’ for a fight, maybe ye could get tae know her too,” he said evenly. 

Claire wasn’t sure she was quite inclined to get to know this aggressive woman. Jenny was still bristling, occasionally shooting her a dark-eyed glance. Still, anything that was important to Jamie was important to Claire, and he’d told her how much he loved his sister and her family. She resolved to give this woman a chance, but she still wouldn’t make a move away from Jamie. His hand was warm and solid around hers, and it calmed her spirit. 

“Aye,” Jenny acquiesced after a tense silence, throwing her hands up, “explain yerself then.” 

No one made any move for a long second. 

“What would ye like to ken?” Jamie asked, and Claire could tell he was trying to keep his voice even and light despite the obvious frustration humming through him.  

“What is she to you?” Jenny demanded. 

Jamie floundered at this. His face went red, and he glanced toward Claire, back at Jenny, then to the ground. “She’s…” he started as he looked toward Claire again, but he obviously wasn’t sure how exactly to explain the relationship. 

“He’s mine,” Claire stated simply to save him the trouble. 

Because how else could it be explained better than that? 

Jamie’s face went impossibly redder, and his sister’s mouth fell open. Jenny glanced toward Ian, and Claire felt like she was caught in the middle of a spider’s web of gazes. What was with these people and their non-verbal communication? Just say something already! 

“Well then, I’d better sit down,” Jenny said begrudgingly. 

She promptly sat down on the couch, and Ian followed, sitting down next to her. Jamie, in turn, walked over to the chair across from them. Claire trailed after him before setting herself straight down on his lap. 

Jamie jerked in surprise as she situated herself as always, twining her arms around his neck and curling up. She saw as his eyes went wide and the tips of his ears (having only just now faded from her last words) flared deep red again. She liked his blush ever-so much but wasn’t sure exactly why he was reacting this way. She’d sat with him plenty of times like this. 

“Maybe find yer own chair for now, lass?” Jamie whispered into her ear. 

She felt confusion and something like disappointment rise up in her. Jamie was hers, and she didn’t understand why he was embarrassed. But she didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, so she quickly slipped off his lap. Grabbing a nearby chair, she couldn’t resist the urge to scoot it closer to Jamie’s. She needed him within arm’s reach. Finally, all was settled, and the only thing left was to begin the conversation.

The air felt heavy around them, and Claire’s apprehension grew. There was a pressure on her shoulders— she realized. His family’s opinion meant everything to Jamie, and Claire was suddenly overwhelmed by the prospect that Jenny’s disapproval could drive them apart. 

Needing the reassurance of his touch, she reached out and took ahold of Jamie’s hand. 

***

When Jamie had come down the stairs to find Jenny facing off with Claire (well, facing off wasna exactly the right term, because his puir faerie was practically trembling in the face of Jenny’s confrontation) and heard the things his sister was saying about her, irritation and something even deeper flared within him, and he quickly jumped to Claire’s defense. 

But the lass certainly hadn’t made things easy. First she’d declared him to be “hers” to Jenny, proudly and possessively, and then she’d sat straight down on his lap— making his sister’s eyes bulge and mouth gape. Jamie loved Claire dearly but needed to keep the situation in hand, so he’d quickly shifted her off of him with only a slight twinge of regret. 

Now, he sat with her hand in hand, ready for Jenny to launch in, as clearly his sister was ready to do. As much as he knew that holding Claire’s hand in front of Jenny would only increase his sister’s ire, he couldn’t dream of withholding that comfort from the faerie. Jenny had been studying their clasped hands for a long second, but then let out a sigh and turned to Claire.  

“How do you two know each other?” she asked, the veil of politeness over her voice quite obviously a front. 

Claire looked toward Jamie, looking unsure about what he would want her to say, and he hastily jumped in. 

“I met Claire at university in Paris. We kept in touch, and she decided tae come for a visit. She got in on Saturday.” 

Jenny and Ian nodded at this, and Jamie felt a sense of relief. 

“And since I’m certain ye’ll ask… the airline lost all her luggage, which is why we were at Mrs. Fitz’s. And no, we werena doin’ anything, I was jes’ helping her do up a zipper.” 

Jenny gave an eyeroll at this, but didn’t otherwise comment. 

“And how is it that you have come to be spending the weekend in sin?” she accused bluntly. 

“We’re no’ livin’ in sin, Janet,” Jamie sighed. His exasperation had almost exceeded tolerant levels. 

“What about what ye said last time?” 

“Last time I let ye believe that simply to make ye shut yer gab. I didna say I was sleepin’ wi’ her, because I am verra much no’. Claire is only stayin’ wi’ me.” Jamie was about a second and a half from kicking Jenny and Ian off of his property and not speaking to his loud-mouth, rude, intolerable sister for a good couple years until she’d learned some manners. 

While all these thoughts were rolling around in Jamie’s head, Jenny was looking pointedly at their clasped hands, obviously not believing that they weren’t sleeping together. 

“Well,” Ian jumped into the conversation before Jenny could make another ill-advised comment, “Claire. What is it ye do for a livin’ then?” he asked politely. 

Claire’s eyes widened like a cornered fawn, the poor lass. She’d never heard that phrase before, let alone was she prepared to come up with an answer of a suitable profession. Jamie quickly jumped to her rescue. 

“She’s a botanist,” he said as he gave her hand a squeeze. He could feel the flutter of her rapid heartbeat in her wrist and hoped the whole ordeal wasn’t too much for her. Stretching his thumb, he ran the tip gently over her pulse point in reassurance. 

“Still tongue-tied, lassie?” Jenny asked with a hint of a sneer. 

“Lay off, Janet,” he growled. 

His sister raised her hands in exasperation. “The lass has said barely a word since we’ve arrived.” As if that explained why she was so hostile toward her. 

“If ye continue to speak so disrespectfully I willna allow ye to stay in my home another minute,” Jamie said in a firm, severe voice. 

“It’s alright, Jamie,” Claire broke in, giving his hand a squeeze. She turned toward Jenny and gave her one of her mega-watt smiles that made Jamie’s knees weak every time. Astonishingly, it did not have the same effect on Jenny. His sister just sat there, cold as ice, gaze locked on Claire’s, without giving a single inch. “I know I’ve been quiet. I’m just nervous about making a good impression on Jamie’s family. I know how much you mean to him.” 

Jamie wanted to throw his arms around his clever lass. Never once had she been in a situation like this, and yet she was so quick on her feet to say the right thing in a tense situation. 

Ian smiled at this, looking back and forth between him and Claire, obviously seeing the palpable connection between them. 

Jenny, on the other hand, was not impressed. 

“Ye shouldna worry about makin’ an impression, lass. Ye willna be around long,” she said dismissively, even going as far as to give a derogatory wave of the hand. 

Jamie’s mouth fell open in incredulity. Jenny had been hostile before, downright rude, but this was on another level of animosity. He let go of Claire’s hand and stood with surprising force, scooting his chair back a couple centimeters with a loud skidding sound. 

“This is you comin’ over tae apologize, Janet?” he roared, “No! I willna have it. Ye’ve said more than enough. Get out. Ye may return when I invite ye and no sooner, and that will only be when ye’ve managed to pull yerself together and apologize tae Claire.” 

Jenny was standing now too. Instead of the deep red of shame that she should have been wearing, though, Jenny was just as riled up as he was. 

Things were escalating far out of hand. 

“Ye bring this lass intae yer life and disappear wi’ out a word, and ye jes’ expect me tae take it as if it’s the most normal thing?” 

“Yes!” he exclaimed in exasperation, “that’s exactly what I expect ye tae do! I’m 29, Jenny, and ye’re actin’ like I’m some 12 year old who brought a girl home askin’ if she could spend the night. I make my own decisions!” 

Jenny’s shoulders seemed to slump. Not in defeat, but in acceptance of the fact that Jamie would be doing whatever he wanted and she didn’t have the power to stop him. 

And she said as much. 

“Fine. Ruin yer life wi’ this trollop. I’ll see myself out. And dinna worry about me comin’ back uninvited, I’ll no’ be gracin’ yer stoop for a long while, that’s for certain.” 

Poor Ian had been sitting motionless the whole time, gaping up at his wife in horror. He occasionally shot glances toward Jamie and behind him to Claire, but mostly Ian’s brain was churning with the conflict he was being dragged along with, forced to be on Jenny’s side. As the brazen besom turned toward the door, Ian rose from the couch. He looked helplessly at Jamie, his brown eyes wide with apology, and then followed after his wife. Jamie didn’t even make to shut the door, simply listened for it to bang close behind them. 

The second they were gone, he turned to Claire, ready to face a teary-eyed faerie horrified by the vile that had just spewed from his sister, ready to offer comfort and apologies, but— to his surprise— he was met with completely calm honey eyes. 

“Are you alright, Jamie?” she asked before he could. She reached out to run a soothing hand up his bicep. 

“Am I alright? Christ! Are you alright? I’m sae sorry ye hadta endure that.” 

“It’s not your fault, Jamie. She was being unfair to you,” she said softly. 

Jamie shook his head back and forth, “she was bein’ unfair tae you! Listen to me, mo nighean donn. I’m sure she didna mean it. She’s angry and hurt because she thinks I’m keepin’ secrets, and she’s protective and brazen and rude. But I ken one day she’ll come around.” 

Claire looked a little heartbroken then. “I’m not sure…”

Taking a step closer, he took her gently by the shoulders, his hands dwarfing the dainty curves of them. His voice lowered to a tone of incredibly gentleness, “are ye really alright, Sassenach?” 

Her eyes lowered. “She just.. scared me,” she admitted with a shrug. 

Jamie’s wame clenched. Jenny was making his worst fears come to fruition. He hated the thought that Claire felt she didn’t belong in this strange world, especially in his life (where he wanted her to stay forever), and here his sister was saying those things to her face. The puir lass was completely cut off from her home, and now even his own family was trying to drive her away from the one shred of security she had. 

He could only imagine the homesickness she must have been feeling at that moment. The longing for the acceptance of her people— her family. 

Unlike his, who was making her hate the human world. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, “nothin’ she said was true. And I’m verra glad ye’re in my life, no matter what my pig-heided sister says.” 

Claire was staring at him deeply, emotion reflected in her eyes. A mutual understanding passed between them, greater than any words. 

Then, abruptly breaking the surreal moment, Claire asked, “what’s ‘pig-heided?” in a terrible mimicry of his accent. 

Jamie burst out laughing, doubling over in half-surprise and half-mirth. A stitch quickly formed in his side as his air ran out. Tears were pricking at the corners of his eyes as he laughed, a release of all the pent up emotion. 

“Have— do ye ken what a pig is, then?” he asked breathlessly, still heaving with laughter. 

To his delight and relief, Claire was laughing softly along with him (or maybe at him) and didn’t take offense to his hilarity. 

With a smile, she shook her head, answering helplessly, “no...” She let out a chuckle. 

“It’s a fat animal that spends its days rollin’ in mud. I’ll show ye one sometime,” he explained, his hands still rested on his knees in his doubled over position. 

Claire nodded in acceptance of his answer and reached out for him. Her wee hands slid down his forearms, raising goosebumps in their wake, until she grasped his hands and pulled him upright. 

He wasn’t quite expecting this, and the force of her tug sent him up and stumbling into her. 

Their bodies collided, and in an effort to keep her from going over, his hands grabbed her around the waist. He stomped his free foot down to regain balance and pulled her flush against him. He must have overcompensated, though, because they both went stumbling a step in the opposite direction this time, their bodies pressed completely together. 

They ended this odd dance with a fit of giggles, clinging tightly to one another as they finally regained balance. 

“Sorry,” she laughed. 

“No, I am,” Jamie chuckled, “but I think we needed a good laugh.” 

“We did,” Claire agreed, more softly this time. They were settling now, Claire looking up with him with big, soft eyes, and the mood shifted starkly from hilarity to something… intimate. One of her hands was pressed to his chest, the other holding on to his tricep, and he could feel nearly every inch of her against him. 

The silence spoke louder than anything, and he couldn't seem to the break eye contact that was quickly becoming dangerous. Every bone in his body screamed at him to kiss her. 

Letting go of her abruptly and taking a step back, he plunged them both back into reality.  

“Come now, lass,” he said hollowly, “I’m hungry. Care tae help me prepare some food?”

***

a/n: I forget if I added this note to tumblr last week, but there’s two more chapters to go in arc I-- ahh!!! I’m so excited (and nervous) for you guys to read them. Hopefully arc II will follow shortly :). Thanks so much for reading, lovely tumblr folks!

Next

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

Hayloft - Part 2

Series Masterlist - Bucky Masterlist - Full Masterlist

Summary: A young girl finds a soldier hiding in the hayloft on her father’s farm. Intrigued, she visits him more and more until her father finds out and puts him to work. As they grow closer, something else grows too.

Pairing: James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes x OC Jenny Richelle “Ricky” Hill

Warning: Strong language, inaccurate war description

Author’s note: Based on the song Hayloft by Mother Mother and the lovestory of my grandparents. I am Dutch and the war was a bit different here, so I will be basing this on the stories I’ve heard about my grandparents.

Word count: 2433

‘What are you reading Jenny?‘ ‘What’s it to you James?‘ ‘Just curious, that’s all.‘ He watches as a smile starts tugging on the corners of her lips. She tries to surppres it, but the sparkle in her eyes is clear as day. ‘Of sons and lovers,‘ she hums, showing him the front, ‘do you know it?‘ ‘Heard of it, haven’t had the chance to read it,‘ he answers, ‘will you read it to me?‘

From that moment on, she’d read to him every Friday and Sunday. Sometimes on Wednesdays if he’d look at her nicely. Though Jenny’s father would rather have her spend time with other lads who are a little more wealthy, he didn’t mind for the time being. After all, the two seemed to be great friends. Meanwhile, Jenny was falling hard and fast. She hadn’t known this feeling before. The butterflies in her stomach when he’d wink at her, the racing of her heart when he’d touch her skin, the way she got light headed when he’d tease her. She could deal with Michelle, the pictures, and the fear of being caught if she knew she could come home to James.  The pictures on the cork board at her work kept changing. Eventually, Timothy’s picture disappeared as he lived a town over and couldn’t possibly still be here. James and Johnny’s pictures were moved up to make them more prominent, but with their messy stubble, weathered faces, and much longer locks they were barely recognizable from them. Jenny continuously send secret letters to James and Johnny’s relatives and friends under her own name. When anyone asked about it, she just said she was catching up with pen pals. Then one day a strange letter arrived. Jenny hadn’t seen the handwriting before. As usual, she gathered the men in the living room to read them their letters and burn them right after. They weren’t allowed to keep them in fear they would be found if they were searched. And so she got to the strange letter. It read.

“Dear Jenny,

Thank you for your wonderful letter. I am grateful to hear you are safe and sound. It has been a while. Please say hi to him for me and tell me that I miss him. Tell him I’m not angry anymore and I understand why he left us when he did. There’s no shame in it, I just wish I could visit to see his face again. Tell him I got into the army. It’s not the position I wanted, but I get to represent my country. Please don’t laugh at me when you see my face.

I hope to hear from you soon,

Yours sincerely,

Steve Rogers“

‘Who is Steve Rogers,‘ Jenny asks James, but when she looks up from the letter she can see the tears in his eyes. ‘Are you okay James?‘ ‘He’s my best friend,‘ James sniffles with a smile, ‘I used to be better at everything, but now he’s finally outdone me.‘ He looks proud and nostalgic as he swallows his tears away. ‘You know, I haven’t heard people call me James in such a long time because he always used to call me Bucky.‘ ‘That’s a nice nickname,‘ Jenny smiles and takes a seat next to him on the couch while the others leave, having thrown their letters in the fire. She hands James his. He laughs when he reads it again. ‘He probably spend hours on this,‘ he chuckles, ‘he never knew how to use his words. I always had to help him find friends or a date. Last time I saw him we went to a fair and I was supposed to leave for the war the next day. He wanted to fight so bad, but he’s build like a toothpick and there’s no way they’re letting someone like that in.‘ Jenny hands him a piece of paper. ‘I wrote down the return address for you, might you ever want to write him again,‘ she tells him. James looks at her in disbelieve. ‘You are a goddamn angel,‘ he smiles and throws his arms around her, engulfing her in a tight hug, ‘you are the best thing that could’ve happened to me.‘ She laughs and pushes him off a little. ‘You’re crushing me,‘ she chuckles when he lets go of her. Alpine wanders into the living room and jumps onto James’ lap. Jenny scratches her behind her ear with a smile while James admired her. ‘I like Bucky. It’s a nice nickname. Fits you way better than James.‘ ‘How come?‘ ‘James is way too smooth,‘ she eyebrows knit together a little while she tries to explain it, ‘it’s what most of those soldiers walking around town look like. Bucky is a bit more rugged and strong. It’s a handsome name.‘ He watches her face change to a bit of mischief. ‘You’re going to be the death of me,‘ he chuckles. ‘I thought I was an angel,‘ she bats her eyes innocently, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. ‘Don’t forget to burn that letter. I’m going to help mother out with dinner.‘ And she’s gone while James feels his cheeks heat up. Alpine looks up at him with a judgmental look. ‘Don’t say it, I know,‘ he sighs, talking to the cat, ‘this isn’t going to end well.‘

‘Good morning gents,‘ Jenny chirps, opening the door to the shed to bring their breakfast, ‘I got some jam for you today.‘ Johnny almost jumps out of his bed. ‘Good morning Jenny, how does it feel to be old,‘ he teases her, poking at her side. ‘Ah, stop it,‘ she laughs at the tickling, ‘I’m not old. Call James old!‘ ‘I’m 23, not a fossil,‘ he chuckles in a rough morning voice. ‘Is it your birthday,‘ Timothy asks, peeking from under his covers. ‘Yeah, I’m 22 today,‘ she smiles, pushing Johnny’s face away, ‘so my father bought jam from the neighbors and my mom is making a cake.‘ ‘Cake,‘ James asks in disbelieve. It had been ages since he had eaten cake. Most people don’t have money to acquire the ingredients. ‘Don’t expect too much from it,‘ she smiles, ‘it’s just custard and rusk.‘ ‘Honestly, that’s better than I expected,‘ he smiles, ‘I’ve heard people make fig cakes these days.‘ ‘Oh, I’ve heard of those,‘ Johnny laughs, ‘heard they’re hard enough to bash someone’s head in.‘ James watches Jenny’s smile a she talks to Johnny before her shift. She looks so good in her navy, knee-length skirt; navy, fitted waistcoat; and ivory blouse. As for today she’s holding a jacket in the same navy color over her arm. The nights had become colder and longer. Winter is coming and they all know it. The shed will be a lot colder in the following months. ‘I’ll be back earlier today, I only have a half shift,‘ Jenny tells them with a smile, ‘enjoy the jam.‘ ‘Thank you.‘

Though the days might be colder as winter approaches, the work has gotten harder. It’s harvest time and the boys are busy beyond compare. They work until they’re covered in sweat and only stop when misses Hill comes outside to give them water. The two younger boys in the family help them with some smaller tasks while Penny, the other daughter, sits by the tree behind the farmhouse and knits. Around twelve, misses Hill comes outside with lunch and sets it down by Penny. They boys sit in a circle with her while she continues to knit. James watches what she’s doing and notices the small mountain of knitted materials next to her. ‘Say Penny, what are you making?‘ She looks up from her work. ‘Oh, mother told me to knit some sweaters because the weather is getting colder,‘ she tells him, ‘mother normally does it, but she’s busy sewing jackets.‘ ‘Sewing jackets?‘ ‘Yeah, you don’t think we’re going to let you guys freeze to death do you,‘ she grins and hands him one of the sweaters to show him, ‘you should be happy Jenny has a job. She’s terrible at knitting and sewing.‘ James takes a look at the sweater. They’re just simple, white sweaters. Probably made from the wool of the sheep that stand in the stables. ‘We’re going to dye them once they’re done so you all have your own,‘ she hums, continuing with her work. ‘How wil you dye them? Isn’t that terribly expensive these days,‘ Timothy asks her a bit concerned. ‘It’s fine. We’re going to use wild berries and some other things like coffee grounds,‘ she explains to him, ‘we’re not exactly short on money, but it’s good to be creative in these times.‘ ‘How’d you guys end up hiding stowaways,‘ James ask, taking a big bite out of his sandwich. ‘Well, Johnny was here with Jenny when we heard soldiers were going to check every house for young gents who didn’t join the army,‘ she says, giving Johnny a small smile, ‘so we made him hide in the crawl space under the house until things calmed down, but it turns out they weren’t going to check us because we need the help on the farm so the men that were here would be safe. Besides, they already took our brother away.‘ She doesn’t look far as sad as Jenny does when talking about him. ‘So who wants what color? I’ll be able to make brown, blue, and red.‘ ‘I’d like brown,‘ Timothy mumbles. ‘I’ll take blue,‘ Johnny grins. ‘I guess that leaves red for me,‘ James smiles at her, eating the last few bites of his sandwich before getting up again. ‘Let’s get back to work.‘ Johnny sighs loudly. ‘No fun that one,‘ he jokes to Penny. They hear something on the gravel and Wesley and Nathan jump up. The group sees Jenny stepping off her bike and putting it against the fence like she does every day. James looks at her like the world just got a little brighter. The sunshine in his life returned and seems to just look at him. ‘Ah, did I miss lunch,‘ she laughs as her brothers pull her towards the group, ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t here earlier.‘ She presses a kiss to everyone’s cheek, but stops for a second after kissing James’ cheek and smiles. She starts rubbing his cheek with her thumb and he can only think of what her lipstick stain on his cheek might look like. ‘It’s fine,‘ he grumbles, ‘how was your day?‘ Without realizing it, he puts an arm around her waist while she keeps scrubbing at his cheek. ‘Gosh, terrible,‘ she grins, ‘they took half the pictures off the cork-board. It’s horrific to see them take them off and see the poor lads being dragged down the street. Don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.‘ She looks satisfied at his cheek and takes a step back, realizing they all have stains on their cheeks. ‘You guys should wash up.‘ ‘Why don’t we get the same treatment as James,‘ Johnny whines. She steps over to him, grabs his jaw, and violently scrubs his face. ‘Wait, no, I surrender. Stop!‘ The group laughs for a second. ‘Oi, back to work lads,‘ mister Hill calls as he steps out of the house.

After dinner it’s time for the improvised cake. Jenny turns an, to James adorable, shade of red when they start singing Happy Birthday to her. She looks with bright eyes at the candles on top of the cake and closes her eyes with her hands folded together before blowing them out. James can’t take his eyes off of her. Misses Hill divides the cake evenly between the nine of them and everyone is quiet at the sweet taste. ‘It’s great mom,‘ Jenny smiles at her mother, ‘perfect birthday.‘ Misses Hill walks over to her daughter and hands her a small, wrapped package. ‘Your grandmother send this over.‘ Jenny’s eyes shine as she opens the package. Everyone looks curiously at the small box as she opens it. Inside is a dainty, golden necklace with a golden coin on it. Jenny flips it over to see the back of it and smiles. ‘She got it engraved,‘ she smiles, tears of joy poking her eyes as she shows her mother. ‘That’s wonderful sweetheart,‘ her mother answers, ‘shall I put it on for you?‘ Jenny nods and hands the necklace to her mother who helps her put it on while she holds up her hair. The whole scene looks enchanting to James. In fact, it looks enchanting to all of them. She lets her hair fall down and shows her sister the coin. ‘Look, its an angel riding a Pegasus,‘ she smiles. Penny gives it a small glance and shrugs. It’s not special to her, but it means the world to Jenny. 

The dinner comes to an end and James and Jenny end up reading on the couch as they often do these days. Alpine is curled up between them and comfortably purrs as both James and Jenny pet her gently. But is James actually reading? He seems to be awing at Jenny’s foccussed face. Heart shaped eyes almost pop out of his skull. ‘Stop looking at me,‘ Jenny whispers at him. He closes his book and pretends to be offended. ‘I was not looking at you.‘ ‘Oh please, you’re a terrible liar,‘ Jenny says as she puts her book down as well. ‘Do you want to go look at the stars from the hayloft?‘ She sighs and puts her book on the coffee table. ‘Fine, but bring a blanket this time. I found hay everywhere last time,‘ she sighs. Alpine follows as the two make their way to the hayloft and open the small window to look outside at she night sky while laying on the hay. James puts the blanket over the hay and arranges it so they can sit comfortably. He sits down first and takes her hand to pull her onto his chest. She turns a bright shade of red when she lands and looks up at his face. ‘You’re adorable,‘ he smiles, feeling tingles going through his whole body. ‘S-stop that,‘ she mumbles, trying to push herself away but his arm has her captured. ‘Hey, where’d my confident Jenny go,‘ he teases.  ‘Oh go fuck yourself,‘ she grins. ‘Gladly, through I’d rather fuck you.‘ She stares with wide eyes into his as a smug smirk plays on his lips. ‘Fuck it,‘ she mumbles and straddles him, dipping down to connect his lips with hers. ‘My dad is going to shoot you.‘ ‘Angel, that only makes it more exciting.‘

[universallywriting]

Drive Home

Steven's breath puffed in the air as he came to sit beside her, feet crunching in the frost and pine needles. He was glad they'd planned it the way they did, just cold enough so the Rocky Mountains were dusted with snow. Specks of brown and green covered the mounds that swallowed up the horizon, towering and beautiful, almost touchably close and endlessly far at the same time. Pine trees circled close around them, boulders jutting up from the earth, and he came to sit down on one beside Connie with a smile.

It was odd up in the mountains. Occasionally hikers would pass them by, or a family of tourists, but off the more well-worn trails that was rare. It was still odd for Steven, who so rarely traveled, to see so many people pass him by that he didn’t know the names of. So often he felt like he should see Buck’s familiar deadpan face, or hear Jenny’s laugh from one of the people that passed him by.

But the only familiar face was Connie’s. The thermos of tea he had brought her was hot in the metal flask. When they drove lower, he would switch back to her favorite black teas, carefully measured with swirls of honey and just the right kind of milk to make her smile. But high up in the mountains, the water didn’t boil hot enough.

Just thinking of her face the first morning she’d tried to make them both tea at 10,000 feet was enough to make him smile. The weak brew had made her nose wrinkle up in confusion, baffled at her perfectly measured cup failing, before she burst into giggles and explained the correlation between how water boiled and the altitude.

She was so brilliant. He handed it to her, enjoying the feel of being stupidly in love and out in the world alone with her before murmuring, “How do you feel?”

"Small. But in a good way. You?" She took a deep breath of mountain air, looking over the landscape. He wondered if she felt the same as him, or if we-moved-a-lot Connie never felt that same warm loneliness.

"Same." He smiled and looked back out. Questions about wanting to see familiar faces could be saved for the road home when they were barefoot and bored. “Wish I had come to places like this more often. Oceans are beautiful but... Nothing makes you feel more like a speck than a mountain. It's comforting."

"Just another little person, running across a big marble." She nudged him softly with her free hand. "Gets a little too much when you really see the marble though. I think going out in space can make Earth feel a little too small."

Steven nodded. "Yeah. This is a good middle ground. Earth feels big. I feel small. I like it this way.”

“Why don’t we stay?” Connie asked lightly. “Drive around forever.”

“I could be happy getting lost in these woods,” he agreed, but there was no weight to it. There was no weight to her words either. They swept away in the breeze, tumbling down stone and needles and babbling brooks to the world beneath.

"Me too." Her fingers wrapped tight around the sketchbook in her lap, the cover digging into her skin just at the brink of hurting. "I'm, um... I'm done with it, by the way. With my portfolio. I’ll submit it in the morning."

"That's great!" Steven said, throwing his arm around her shoulders with an eager squeeze. His lips found her temple in a reassuring kiss, seeing the nerves in the stiff lines of her body. "I'm so proud of you. Did the landscapes turn out the way you wanted?"

She opened her sketchbook and Steven eagerly looked over her shoulder, never tiring of the contents. It started with the temple. The morning they left Steven had found her on the beach, wrapped up in a hoodie in the early dawn chill, sketching his home and occasionally sipping at a coffee that had gone cold, and though she had insisted it wasn’t important, he had happily delayed their start until she finished.

Connie flipped to fields of grain. Traveling the midwest had been much less exciting than he expected. Keystone had rolled by and their eyes had glazed over as everything seemed to be the same three trees and two rocks. They had burst into Buckeye and passed through Kansas and had mumbled incoherently about corn while the radio tried to keep them alive and driving. That night they had stared at Connie’s grain drawing with a ghostly horror, neither of them remembering when she had drawn the stuff.

She moved past a drawing of rolling grassy hills. In Nebraska, he had floated to the top of the RV with her. While she drew, he had read about the Great Plains on his phone. They had taken a moment, in warm breeze and isolation, to let tears hit their eyes and cries choke their lungs as they read about what happened to buffalo who had roamed there once. They had whispered about colonies of all kinds, and there was no one around to reassure them, so they took the time to mourn things that might have been.

They had done the same in sand dunes, or close to it. The sketch she passed held more memory than a picture, the grays of her pencil capturing more than just the desert, but him breaking down over Kindergartens sucking life from the earth. Another sketch just after, with a lovely pink flower blossoming on top of a cactus, and he could hear her voice reassuring, “Nothing’s as lifeless as you’d think.”

Connie paused on his favorite, the polar bear she had sketched from the San Diego Zoo. They had spent such a long day there, but when they got to the polar bears she had stopped and gushed about them. The Spirit Morph saga had inspired her to do research, and she rambled facts. Polar bears had terrible success rates, with only two percent of their hunts being successful, did he know? 

He really liked that idea. The largest bear of all, living in such a harsh environment, failed almost all the time. It fumbled and watched as victory slipped away, but it came back to try another day. It survived.

She finished on a sweeping mountain landscape, not too different from the one they sat in now. Connie set her phone next to it, a copy of her finished project next to the rougher draft. "That's the last one," she said quietly, pointing to the screen. "I think it turned out okay."

"It makes Earth look beautiful. I’d put it in a gem brochure," he reassured. “You chose a lot of amazing stuff.”

She bit her lower lip. “I hope so. I tried to choose what a school would think is best, not just the stuff I think is great. The stuff that shows skill, you know?

He kissed her cheek this time, saying, "Any school is going to be lucky to have you. You're amazing, Connie."

"I'm okay," she said, voice very practical about her own skills. Connie looked at him with a little laugh. "I don't know what's scarier - getting rejected or getting in. Mom was mad enough about the world US road trip gap year."

"She got over it! You know, after the meltdown." Steven said, wincing a little at the memory. He had sat behind her, trying to support her as quietly as possible while Priyanka and Connie growled and snapped at one another, each insisting on how the next year should be spent. And, at the end, the tearful apologies, the confessions of fear over the future… He had to admit that it was a relatable feeling, even if no one had fought with him.

"She'll get over this too. Come on. This is what you've always wanted. You're going to be an animator, Connie,” he said, and just saying the word made her eyes go a little wide with hope. 

He remembered her earliest drawings with him, rougher but already so much nicer than his own. He remembered her working through how to draw anime books, silly cat-eared characters with huge eyes. Steven remembered her fumbling beyond that, hours of Tubetube tutorials, crying at the tablet he got her for her birthday, the countless gifts of fanart for his favorite shows. He remembered trembling hands the first time she showed him a comic, with characters he had never seen, because she had snatched them from the air the way he grabbed music.

Steven knew he was tearing up again like he did every time he told her, but he could never hold it back. “It’s what you live for, Connie. It’s what makes you happy. You're going to tell stories."

Connie breathed again, taking in pine and chill and rocks older than even the Crystal Gems by orders of magnitude. The world was big and wide and old, the universe even more so, and usually that made her problems feel small. But nothing could swallow up the fear and doubt today. She took his hand tight in her own.

"This has been amazing. Driving across the country, seeing all these different parts of the world, pitstops to warps so we can see everything Earth has to offer. Steven, I..."  She looked up at him, shaking her head in disbelief. "These past ten months have been the best months of my life. Everyone said we were going to get sick of each other. Your dad gave us that speech about how it was okay to bail. Everyone thought we were going to mess this up but... I'd do this for another year if it wasn't for college."

He was careful not to jostle her phone or sketchbook from her lap as he lifted her hand and pressed it to his lips. "I loved this. I love you. No expectations. No scary future. No responsibilities. Just a big journey together.”

“I’m glad you loved it as much as I did,” she said with a smile.

“More than that. I needed it.” He laughed and shook his head. “Connie, I never could have asked for anything better than this. Everything at home was a mess. I’m so tired of all the work and responsibility and wondering what I’m going to do with my life. But this past year I just got to be with you and not be afraid."

"But now we have to go home," she whispered looking at the RV parked behind them. The place where they slept and ate. The place where they made stupid jokes and listened to terrible radio and podcasts. The place where they’d cried and kissed and worked through things they never thought they’d work through. But that was over now, and it loomed like a hearse. “We have to get in there and drive all the way back to Beach City. And then I... I have to wait to see if I get accepted.”

She laughed, cold and bitter, and took a hand to wipe at her eyes. He couldn’t see any tears falling, but Connie felt them stinging. “I’ve messed up on a lot of stuff, Steven. I know I seem smart, but most of it is from studying so hard. I’m not… special. I’m not talented. The odds are good they’re not gonna want me. And if they don't, I guess I'll go be a doctor or something. And, if they do, I..."

I’m screwed either way.

Steven shook his head hard. "You'll be an animator," he insisted. He took the thermos and set it aside, untouched, just so he could take both her hands in his. "You'll do exactly what you've been doing ever since I met you - telling stories. You'll finally get to be who you've always wanted to be."

She winced. "But my mom-"

"Who cares?" Steven said, barely holding back his temper. "We spent a year, just the two of us! You don’t need her to agree."

"Ten months," she corrected softly. "But, you're right. We did."

Steven didn’t like his temper. He didn’t like how angry he got. He didn’t like how easily he could drag Connie into it, drown her in it when they fused. He felt guilty about that. He worried about that a lot, that maybe his anger meant he wasn’t as good of a person as he liked to try to be. He loved Dr. and Mr. Maheswaran, didn’t he? His anger shouldn’t be so burning and flaring when all they wanted was for Connie to be safe.

But his feelings for her parents got tangled in his own, and when he started down that path he felt that little voice hissing that they should leave them alone, and that they could do things on their own, and for once they wanted to live their own lives and forge their own paths, and was it really so much to ask for unconditional support in that?

Steven took a steady breath to calm himself. "She should be in your life. The gems should be in my life. But nobody... Nobody gets to tell you what to do with it. It took me so long to figure that out. I didn't get that making other people happy and hurting yourself to meet their expectations aren't the same thing. I spent my whole life trying to be my mom. I didn't know what to do when I wasn't."

Connie nodded weakly. "I know."

He took her face in his hands, pressing her forehead to hers. "You're not your mom. You never have been. You don’t love rules and coloring inside the lines. You sneak candy into movies and find loopholes in the law and climb giant robots and... And you love books. And comics. And television. You love survival." 

Steven flipped back to the polar bear, gently tapping the page. "You drew this because of the warrior bears in the Spirit Morph Saga, because those books meant everything to you, and you want to make something like that for other people. That’s who you are. You want to inspire people like people who have inspired you."

She closed her eyes, trying not to cry. “I know. But I’m… I don’t know if I…”

“I’ve seen you capture Pearl on a page, and I can see all her determination and all her fear at the same time,” he whispered. “I’ve seen you draw your dad as a superhero, with a goofy flashlight and a big smile, because that’s who he was when you were small. You… You drew me, Connie.”

His thumbs smoothed over her cheeks as he took a shuddering breath. “You drew me the way you love me. It was just me, sleepy in our RV, and I looked peaceful and happy and I was looking outside and… and I could feel the way I love our stupid little rock. I was human and not human and I loved it, Connie. You made me feel so much.”

“I know, Steven. I know you feel the things I make but…” She whimpered, the tears he hadn’t seen before finally rolling. “What if I'm not good enough? What if I reach for Kansas and burn out halfway there?"

Steven hugged her tight, and let her bury her face in his shoulder. They were all alone up there, softly rustling trees holing them up from the terrifying landscape ahead. But there were such beautiful things below, pressed into the pages of Connie’s sketchbook, and it was time to face them all.

“I’ll pick you up.” His face buried in her hair, thoughts of their families fresh in his mind, and there was only one thing to promise, "I'll drive you home. And we'll all love you anyway."

[maidenof-thesea]

Snakes and Butterflies | Preface

Pairing: Jimin x reader

Genre: Soulmate Au!, Fluff, Angst, Smut (Maybe, still debating)

Words: 2.1k 

Warnings: MC briefly mentions self harm but she recovers. 

Note: So this is my first series, I sort of dabbled in writing when I was younger. so I’m no expert but feedback is appreciated. I always enjoyed reading fan-fictions and always wanted to try it myself. Hope you like it! 

"So your room will be on the 3rd floor, facing the parking lot behind this building" I say to the couple in front of me as I hand them the keys to their hotel room. When they both reach for the keys I see their soulmate marks both matching arrows. I look up and feel my fake customer smile come on my face as I met their gaze. "Elevator is on the first hallway to your right as soon as you leave out the door. Dial zero if you have any questions." As soon as the couple is out of hearing range, I let out a sigh that Fernando, the security guard, hears.

"It's almost time till you get off," He says. "I have 7 more hours to go.."

"Oh you’re right" I say, as I look at the time on my phone. "Time to go home to the love of my life: my Yuki."

"Y/n, you need to go out and have fun like other girls your age," He says laughing and rubbing his beer pot belly. "You never know, you might just meet the love of your life...which would be nice in times like these.."

"Times like what?" I say counting out my last cash drop of my shift. "Did you see something on Facebook again? I told you so many times--"

"I saw this on the local news!" He says with red blotching his cheeks. "Young girls! Young girls around your age getting abducted! They turn up later on having no memory only that their Soulmate marks are gone!"

"Let me guess," I say printing out my paperwork and logging out of the system so that I could wait for my relief to come running through the door late again. "All these girls had a bunch to drink while having this so called 'fun' you say and this happened to them."

He stammers for words and in comes running my coworker who happens to work the graveyard shift. I saluted her and  I gestured for her to hurry up and clock in since guests are pulling in the parking lot. She smiles and hurries to start the beginning of her shift, while Fernando walks me to my car.

"Okay," He starts when we reach my car. "Perhaps not now but later when this whole ordeal dies down." I hum in response ready to get in my car as I unlock it, but he stops my door from opening. 

"I just worry about you, that's all y/n. Most girls either rebel or try very hard to find the one that matches their Mark but you.. you hide behind those sweaters and let no one near you, I've never even seen your Mark-"

“Fernando," I say grasping his shoulder. "There's no need to worry, I'm just letting fate decide for me. We've been blessed with this, surely fate means for me to come across them at some point in my life." I feel my other hand clench at the word 'blessed'. Surely to me it was a curse. I force myself to smile and I see that it works, he's convinced. "I just want time for myself. I want to grow into a person that feels like she's lived her life and is willing to open up and welcome someone." That wasn't a lie, that was genuine and I felt my voice wavering with emotion. Emotion I didn't know I still had. Fernando pats my hand and opens my door. I roll down the window after starting the ignition. I smile as I hear his radio go off, my coworker stating she needs him upfront. 

"Alright then miss," he says smiling. "I will let you go now and get some sleep!" I wave at him, as I reverse out and start the short drive home. My smile fading off my face as I clenched the steering wheel, willing myself to force unwanted emotions and memories away and drove the short distance to my home.  

The reason I decided to move out here to one of the beach cities was to escape. I found solitude in the sounds of the waves. My friend Jennie had recommended me to stay in this house alongside her family’s private beach, once I had told her my plans of moving out. She told me the rent would be really cheap which was impossible to believe but she told me that her family was planning on making it an airbnb during the summer and that they needed someone to manage it. She offered a wage but of course I declined, I just told her to hire someone to clean and I’ll manage the rest. 

It had been a year since then and now summer was just peaking over the horizon again and I knew I was gonna have to take time off to get everything situated. As I got through my door, my beloved Yuki, my tonkinese cat greets me with her purring and rubbing around my ankles.

“Hello my precious, how was your night?”

She purrs and licks my petting hand. I go to take off my coat and shower before bed. As I strip my work clothes, my arms catch my glance and from the conversation from earlier, I am reminded just how much of a freak I am. Where there should have been a Mark, lied just my skin. Scarred skin, to be exact, scars that matched my finger nails.

Rather than face the questions and pity in people’s faces, I rather hide. Hide just how pitiful my life has been. As the warmth of the water envelops me, I don’t feel the need to hide, at least not here in my own home, well that is till the summer. I force the pity I have for myself away and hum a tune. After that I fed Yuki a late night snack and turned on the TV to watch some Netflix. Just then my phone dinged and I saw a message from my mother. 

Mom[10:47 pm]: Have you seen this? Link: ww.foxnews.com/missingMarks

I clicked on the link and apparently the news I thought was just local made national news. 

“Today in a small town in southern California, tragedy has struck for several young adolescents who were out enjoying their youth when their very futures may very well change forever.” I rolled my eyes at that. They’ll live. “These women were abducted and their Soulmate marks stripped from their arms. All of them have no recollection of their whereabouts in the last 14 hours. Here’s Nancy with one of the victims.”

The clip changes to a girl with her eyes blurred out but it was evident that she was crying as she kept wiping her face. 

“I swear I just needed some air, I stepped out for a bit and I woke up at some park and this excruciating pain in my arm… my Mark was gone, almost as if it was burned off! How am I ever-gonna find them?!” 

Once again I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes, although a part of me was reminded of my teenage years but now older me, thrives in independence. My phone dings again, indicating another message from my mother.

Mom[10:52 pm]: They think there’s some Neanderthals out there taking Marks away… is that even possible? I thought they were extinct…

Me[10:52 pm]: I thought that was just a bedtime story??

Mom[10:55 pm]: Seriously? It’s in the history books! Why would you think that?

Me[10: 57 pm]: You know why… I don’t really care for things involving those stupid Marks. Besides I learned that along with basic math, how am I supposed to remember that?

Mom[10:57 pm]: I know sorry. But you should at least know our history!

Me[10:58 pm]: Ok I’ll watch a documentary on it on Netflix right now

Mom[10:59 pm]: You just got off work! Go to sleep!

Me[10:59 pm]: yea yea goodnight <3

“Maybe we should just sleep Yuki?” I say as she jumps on my lap and continues to purr and make herself comfortable before I could even get up. “Oh well guess I’m not moving.”

I grab the remote and start Netflix and about to click on Stranger, a Korean drama that I binged in the night prior but a new planet earth documentary catches my eye. This time instead of endangered species it’s about Neanderthals, an extinct race of human beings.

“Would you look at that?” I say tilting my head in curiosity. “Guess I am gonna learn our history.”

As the documentary starts to play, I get a text from my boss that she needs me off for tomorrow so I could work a full shift the day after and I internally groan but realize I can sleep in tomorrow. The theme song of Planet Earth starts playing and I am reminded of my childhood when I see the photograph of the Neanderthals, they look more ape like than human. I begin to wonder if they really actually looked like that or if they were exaggerated or not. Would they still look like that or would evolution help them adapt among humans now? Assuming that they were still alive…

“Humans and Neanderthals have always had their differences and constantly were at war with each other. Evolution had blessed humans with the abilities to procreate faster by aiding humans to find suitable partners. Each generation of humans was more beautiful than the previous. The Neanderthals, unfortunately were unable to evolve like us human beings and they would rape and pillage humans in order to procreate. Thanks to our advancement in evolution, humans were able to develop better weapons and eradicate the Neanderthals…”

“Okay,” I said rolling my eyes, raising the remote control. “Enough of that genocide bullshit.”

“But what if that’s all a lie?” a man obscured in the video said. On the bottom where typically the name of professors or researchers would be credited, the name ‘John Doe’ was instead. This caused me to raise my eyebrows. This man did not want to be known. Of course what he just said is considered blasphemous. “What if I were to tell you that humans are not the apex predators-that we never were the apex predator? That our ancestors may have won the war but fabricated history for their benefit?”

“That’s quite possible,” I mumbled. “But how could you possibly obtain the evidence to prove that?” 

“Of course there is no evidence left to prove that but I have dedicated my entire research into finding the remaining Neanderthals. Our ancestors could never locate the actual origin of the Neanderthals-”

“Seriously? I thought that place was just a myth!” I exclaimed, rousing Yuki from her sleep. With the flick of her tail she hopped off the couch and headed to my bedroom to sleep on my bed. “Sorry baby.” 

The documentary went on and on about the possibility that Neanderthals may live among us. That everything we know is a lie, that Neanderthals were the ones who evolved, they were the ones that had Soulmate marks… but there was no evidence to support it.

I turned off the TV when the credits started to roll. “Well another documentary to piss off the republicans.” My eyes started to feel heavy and instead of going to my bed I just pulled the throw blanket over myself and fell asleep. 

“Y/n look! Fireflies!” a boy with crescent moon eyes and Cheshire smile came running up to me with cupped hands. On his arm, was a Soulmate mark that wrapped around his entire arm, like a snake. It was the most beautiful I had ever seen. Most marks were abstract symbols but this was the first animal one I had ever seen.

“Can I see, Jimin?” another boy said excitedly running with buck teeth, almost like a bunny’s. 

“No I want to show Y/n first!” and the boy called Jimin reached me and opened his hands.

The fireflies floated up the sky and both me and the other boy stared in awe. The other boy proceeded to try and catch the fireflies once more and when I looked back at Jimin, he was already staring at me with a gleam in his eyes. He reached for my hand and when our skin made contact, a shiver went through the both of us. When I looked at our joined hands, I noticed that instead of a snake tail on his wrist, the snake’s body seemed to morph into particles and the particles continued onto my arm and morphed into butterflies..like a puzzle piece.

“Y/N-”

Next

Masterlist 

[uppastthejelliclemoon]

Quasi Questionnarie

What is their name? Gender? General age?

- His name is Quasi, and he’s a tom who’s a year older than Tumblebrutus, so about the same age as Plato!

What are three adjectives to describe them?

- Energetic, charming, sly

If they have a human home, what is their home life like? If they are on the streets, what is life like for them?

- Quasi lives with his human, Esmeralda, who works as a chef at a restaurant, which is where she originally found him. He spends most of his time in the kitchen with her, or at the very front of the restaurant, where the normal patrons and workers all know him. He’s a very snuggly boy when it comes to his girl, and when they get back home after a day of work, it’s either to cuddle on the bed and read, or Esmeralda will sit and watch television with Quasi curled up in her lap.

What is their ‘role’ within the tribe, or what are they known for? (Ex: Tugger is the curious cat/rockstar, Gus is the theatre cat, Mistoffelees is the magician, Munkustrap is the Jellicle Protector, Jelly is seen as a caretaker, etc)

- He’s not exactly part of the Jellicle tribe yet, as he’s still more of an outsider to them, but I imagine that once he does become part of the tribe, he’d definitely be one of the Protectors and/or spies, if they need a spy.

Who are their best friends? You can include characters from the show or tag other people’s OC’s. How popular are they?

- His “family” includes Jacquotte ( @thederpyllamaoflove​’s OC), and Jitterbug, my OC. The two of them are basically his adopted mother and sister. His only other friend/acquaintance is Antoinette ( @hufferysnuffery​’s OC), but while he was working for Macavity, he was “friends” with Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer. They weren’t close, but the three of them often worked together, so they tended to band together. Quasi definitely felt a bit betrayed when they left without saying anything to him.

What is their favorite food? Do they prefer human food or something they’ve hunted?

- Quasi absolutely loves fish. Esmeralda always makes it for him, because he cannot stand meat. This is mainly because of his run-in with the butcher that caused him to lose his tail, so he just has an aversion to meat because of that. 

Do they have any accessories? Scars?Why or why not?

- He has two major scars. His biggest one is the scar on his eye, which is from Macavity. Macavity lost his temper after a job went wrong, and Quasi was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He got hit with magic and lost his eye, which was the catalyst for him leaving. His other major scar is the one across his nose, which he got from Munkustrap when Macavity had some of his henchcats attack the Junkyard. He has a few other small scars on his body hidden by his fur, and his only other major injury is the missing top half of his tail. 

What style of dance do they work best in?

- Contemporary!

Do they have any sort of magic? Do they fear magic?

- He doesn’t have any magic, but Quasi definitely has a healthy fear, given everything that happened to him. 

Any fears?

- Macavity, losing the three cats he cares most about to Macavity, being abandoned

Do they believe in love? If so, what is their “type” and how do they act when they are in love? If not, then why?

- As much as he denies it, Quasi definitely believes in love. His type is glossy, ragdoll toms with the most gorgeous blue eyes who are snappish and aloof, and who tease him about his scars, and who get annoyed when he calls them “Pretty Boy”. He doesn’t really act all that different when he’s in love, mainly because he doesn’t really know how to show affection, given that he never really had a family until he left Macavity’s gang. He’d probably be a bit more forward with his own teasing, but that’s pretty much it.

Do they personally know anyone who has gone up to the Heaviside layer?

- He doesn’t really know anyone who’s gone to the Heaviside. I think he’s probably ran into Grizabella a few times before she was Chosen, but that’s it.

Do they believe in the Heaviside layer?

- He does, mainly because he likes to think that his parents are in the Heaviside Layer.

If a song was sung about them at the Jellicle Ball, what would it be about?

- Probably about his time as a henchcat and his adventures, ending with how he escaped Macavity.

What are their thoughts on some of the main characters in the show? (Ex: Tugger, Munk, Jenny, you get to choose!)

- He’s absolutely terrified of Munkustrap. Mainly because of what happened, but he also just is very wary of the Jellicles He doesn’t hate them obviously, but he’s afraid that if he approaches any of them, they’re going to think the worst. of him.

Do they have any secrets they are hiding?

- Nope! He’s a very straightforward tom.

Any passions or hobbies? (Ex: Dance, hunting, etc)

- He loves cooking of course, but he’s also a surprisingly good singer! He hums whenever he’s just walking around, and Jacquotte has definitely taught him a few sea shanties that he’ll sing at the top of his lungs!

(this questionnaire belongs to @magical-marvelous-mistoffelees!)